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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Illinois + Benedictine College" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Illinois Benedictine College". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +The Underdogs + +by Mariano Azuela + + + + +Mariano Azuela, the first of the "novelists of the Revolution," +was born in Lagos de Moreno, Jalisco, Mexico, in 1873. He +studied medicine in Guadalajara and returned to Lagos in 1909, +where he began the practice of his profession. He began his +writing career early; in 1896 he published Impressions of a Stu- +dent in a weekly of Mexico City. This was followed by numer- +ous sketches and short stories, and in 1911 by his first novel, +Andres Perez, maderista. + +Like most of the young Liberals, he supported Francisco I. +Madero's uprising, which overthrew the dictatorship of Porfirio +Diaz, and in 1911 was made Director of Education of the State +of Jalisco. After Madero's assassination, he joined the army of +Pancho Villa as doctor, and his knowledge of the Revolution +was acquired at firsthand. When the counterrevolutionary +forces of Victoriano Huerta were temporarily triumphant, he +emigrated to El Paso, Texas, where in 1915 he wrote The Un- +derdogs (Los de abajo), which did not receive general recogni- +tion until 1924, when it was hailed as the novel of the Revolution. + +But Azuela was fundamentally a moralist, and his disappoint- +ment with the Revolution soon began to manifest itself. He had +fought for a better Mexico; but he saw that while the Revolution +had corrected certain injustices, it had given rise to others +equally deplorable. When he saw the self-servers and the un- +principled turning his hopes for the redemption of the under- +privileged of his country into a ladder to serve their own ends, +his disillusionment was deep and often bitter. His later novels +are marred at times by a savage sarcasm. + +During his later years, and until his death in 1952, he lived in +Mexico City writing and practicing his profession among the +poor. + + + + + + +The Underdogs + + +by Mariano Azuela + + +A Novel of the Mexican Revolution + + +Translated by E. Munguia, Jr. +Original Title: LOS DE ABAJO + + + + +PART ONE + + +"How beautiful the revolution! +Even in its most barbarous aspect it is beautiful," +Solis said with deep feeling. + + + + I + + +"That's no animal, I tell you! Listen to the dog bark- +ing! It must be a human being." + +The woman stared into the darkness of the sierra. + +"What if they're soldiers?" said a man, who sat In- +dian-fashion, eating, a coarse earthenware plate in his +right hand, three folded tortillas in the other. + +The woman made no answer, all her senses directed +outside the hut. The beat of horses' hoofs rang in the +quarry nearby. The dog barked again, louder and more +angrily. + +"Well, Demetrio, I think you had better hide, all the +same." + +Stolidly, the man finished eating; next he reached for +a cantaro and gulped down the water in it; then he +stood up. + +"Your rifle is under the mat," she whispered. + +A tallow candle illumined the small room. In one cor- +ner stood a plow, a yoke, a goad, and other agricultural +implements. Ropes hung from the roof, securing an old +adobe mold, used as a bed; on it a child slept, covered +with gray rags. + +Demetrio buckled his cartridge belt about his waist +and picked up his rifle. He was tall and well built, with a +sanguine face and beardless chin; he wore shirt and +trousers of white cloth, a broad Mexican hat and leather +sandals. + +With slow, measured step, he left the room, vanishing +into the impenetrable darkness of the night. + +The dog, excited to the point of madness, had jumped +over the corral fence. + +Suddenly a shot rang out. The dog moaned, then +barked no more. Some men on horseback rode up, shout- +ing and sweating; two of them dismounted, while the +other hung back to watch the horses. + +"Hey, there, woman: we want food! Give us eggs, +milk, beans, anything you've got! We're starving!" + +"Curse the sierra! It would take the Devil himself +not to lose his way!" + +"Guess again, Sergeant! Even the Devil would go +astray if he were as drunk as you are." + +The first speaker wore chevrons on his arm, the other +red stripes on his shoulders. + +"Whose place is this, old woman? Or is it an empty +house? God's truth, which is it?" + +"Of course it's not empty. How about the light and +that child there? Look here, confound it, we want to +eat, and damn quick tool Are you coming out or are we +going to make you?" + +"You swine! Both of you! You've gone and killed my +dog, that's what you've done! What harm did he ever do +you? What did you have against him?" + +The woman reentered the house, dragging the dog be- +hind her, very white and fat, with lifeless eyes and flabby +body. + +"Look at those cheeks, Sergeant! Don't get riled, light +of my life: I swear I'll turn your home into a dovecot, +see?" +"By God!" he said, breaking off into song: + +"Don't look so haughty, dear, +Banish all fears, +Kiss me and melt to me, +I'll drink up your tears!" + + +His alcoholic tenor trailed off into the night. + +"Tell me what they call this ranch, woman?" the ser- +geant asked. + +"Limon," the woman replied curtly, carrying wood to +the fire and fanning the coals. + +"So we're in Limon, eh, the famous Demetrio Macias' +country, eh? Do you hear that, Lieutenant? We're in +Limon." + +"Limon? What the hell do I care? If I'm bound for +hell, Sergeant, I might as well go there now. I don't +mind, now that I've found as good a remount as this! +Look at the cheeks on the darling, look at them! There's +a pair of ripe red apples for a fellow to bite into!" + +"I'll wager you know Macias the bandit, lady? I was +in the pen with him at Escobedo, once." + +"Bring me a bottle of tequila, Sergeant: I've decided +to spend the night with this charming lady. . . . What's +that? The colonel? . . . Why in God's name talk about +the colonel now? He can go straight to hell, for all I +care. And if he doesn't like it, it's all right with me. Come +on, Sergeant, tell the corporal outside to unsaddle the +horses and feed them. I'll stay here all night. Here, my +girl, you let the sergeant fry the eggs and warm up the +tortillas; you come here to me. See this wallet full of nice +new bills? They're all for you, darling. Sure, I want you +to have them. Figure it out for yourself. I'm drunk, see: +I've a bit of a load on and that's why I'm kind of hoarse, +you might call it. I left half my gullet down Guadalajara +way, and I've been spitting the other half out all the way +up here. Oh well, who cares? But I want you to have that +money, see, dearie? Hey, Sergeant, where's my bottle? +Now, little girl, come here and pour yourself a drink. +You won't, eh? Aw, come on! Afraid of your--er--hus- +band . . . or whatever he is, huh? Well, if he's skulking in +some hole, you tell him to come out. What the hell do I +care? I'm not scared of rats, see!" +Suddenly a white shadow loomed on the threshold. + +"Demetrio Macias!" the sergeant cried as he stepped +back in terror. + +The lieutenant stood up, silent, cold and motionless +as a statue. + +"Shoot them!" the woman croaked. + +"Oh, come, you'll surely spare us! I didn't know you +were there. I'll always stand up for a brave man." + +Demetrio stood his ground, looking them up and down, +an insolent and disdainful smile wrinkling his face. + +"Yes, I not only respect brave men, but I like them. +I'm proud and happy to call them friends. Here's my +hand on it: friend to friend." Then, after a pause: "All +right, Demetrio Macias, if you don't want to shake +hands, all right! But it's because you don't know me, +that's why, just because the first time you saw me I was +doing this dog's job. But look here, I ask you, what in +God's name can a man do when he's poor and has a +wife to support and kids? . . . Right you are, Sergeant, +let's go: I've nothing but respect for the home of what I +call a brave man, a real, honest, genuine man!" + +When they had gone, the woman drew close to +Demetrio. + +"Holy Virgin, what agony! I suffered as though it was +you they'd shot." + +"You go to father's house, quick!" Demetrio ordered. +She wanted to hold him in her arms; she entreated, she +wept. But he pushed away from her gently and, in a sullen +voice, said, "I've an idea the whole lot of them are com- +ing." +"Why didn't you kill 'em?" +"Their hour hasn't struck yet." + +They went out together; she bore the child in her +arms. At the door, they separated, moving off in different +directions. + +The moon peopled the mountain with vague shadows. +As he advanced at every turn of his way Demetrio could +see the poignant, sharp silhouette of a woman pushing +forward painfully, bearing a child in her arms. + +When, after many hours of climbing, he gazed back, +huge flames shot up from the depths of the canyon by +the river. It was his house, blazing. . . . + + + +II + + +Everything was still swathed in shadows as +Demetrio Macias began his descent to the bottom of +the ravine. Between rocks striped with huge eroded +cracks, and a squarely cut wall, with the river flowing +below, a narrow ledge along the steep incline served as a +mountain trail. + +"They'll surely find me now and track us down like +dogs," he mused. "It's a good thing they know nothing +about the trails and paths up here. . . . But if they got +someone from Moyahua to guide them . . ." He left the +sinister thought unfinished. "All the men from Limon or +Santa Rosa or the other nearby ranches are on our side: +they wouldn't try to trail us. That cacique who's chased +and run me ragged over these hills, is at Mohayua now; +he'd give his eyeteeth to see me dangling from a telegraph +pole with my tongue hanging out of my mouth, purple +and swollen. . . ." + +At dawn, he approached the pit of the canyon. Here, +he lay on the rocks and fell asleep. + +The river crept along, murmuring as the waters rose +and fell in small cascades. Birds sang lyrically from their +hiding among the pitaya trees. The monotonous, eternal +drone of insects filled the rocky solitude with mystery. + +Demetrio awoke with a start. He waded the river, fol- +lowing its course which ran counter to the canyon; he +climbed the crags laboriously as an ant, gripping root and +rock with his hands, clutching every stone in the trail +with his bare feet. + +When he reached the summit, he glanced down to +see the sun steeping the valley in a lake of gold. Near the +canyon, enormous rocks loomed protrudent, like fantastic +Negro skulls. The pitaya trees rose tenuous, tall, like the +tapering, gnarled fingers of a giant; other trees of all sorts +bowed their crests toward the pit of the abyss. Amid +the stark rocks and dry branches, roses bloomed like a +white offering to the sun as smoothly, suavely, it unrav- +eled its golden threads, one by one, from rock to rock. + +Demetrio stopped at the summit. Reaching backward, +with his right arm he drew his horn which hung at his +back, held it up to his thick lips, and, swelling his cheeks +out, blew three loud blasts. From across the hill close by, +three sharp whistles answered his signal. + +In the distance, from a conical heap of reeds and dry +straws, man after man emerged, one after the other, their +legs and chests naked, lambent and dark as old bronze. +They rushed forward to greet Demetrio, and stopped be- +fore him, askance. +"They've burnt my house," he said. + +A murmur of oaths, imprecations, and threats rose +among them. + +Demetrio let their anger run its course. Then he drew +a bottle from under his shirt and took a deep swig; +then he wiped the neck of the bottle with the back of his +hand and passed it around. It passed from mouth to +mouth; not a drop was left. The men passed their tongues +greedily over their lips to recapture the tang of the liq- +uor. + +"Glory be to God and by His Will," said Demetrio, +"tonight or tomorrow at the latest we'll meet the Federals. +What do you say, boys, shall we let them find their way +about these trails?" + +The ragged crew jumped to their feet, uttering shrill +cries of joy; then their jubilation turned sinister and they +gave vent to threats, oaths and imprecations. + +"Of course, we can't tell how strong they are," said +Demetrio as his glance traveled over their faces in +scrutiny. + +"Do you remember Medina? Out there at Hos- +totipaquillo, he only had a half a dozen men with knives +that they sharpened on a grindstone. Well, he held back +the soldiers and the police, didn't he? And he beat them, +too." + +"We're every bit as good as Medina's crowd!" said a +tall, broad-shouldered man with a black beard and bushy +eyebrows. + +"By God, if I don't own a Mauser and a lot of car- +tridges, if I can't get a pair of trousers and shoes, then +my name's not Anastasio Montanez! Look here, Quail, +you don't believe it, do you? You ask my partner +Demetrio if I haven't half a dozen bullets in me already. +Christ! Bullets are marbles to me! And I dare you to +contradict me!" + +"Viva Anastasio Montanez," shouted Manteca. + +"All right, all right!" said Montanez. "Viva Demetrio +Macias, our chief, and long life to God in His heaven +and to the Virgin Mary." + +"Viva Demetrio Macias," they all shouted. + +They gathered dry brush and wood, built a fire and +placed chunks of fresh meat upon the burning coals. As +the blaze rose, they collected about the fire, sat down In- +dian-fashion and inhaled the odor of the meat as it twist- +ed on the crackling fire. The rays of the sun, falling about +them, cast a golden radiance over the bloody hide of a +calf, lying on the ground nearby. The meat dangled from a +rope fastened to a huizache tree, to dry in the sun and +wind. + +"Well, men," Demetrio said, "you know we've only +twenty rifles, besides my thirty-thirty. If there are just a +few of them, we'll shoot until there's not a live man left. +If there's a lot of 'em, we can give 'em a good scare, any- +how." + +He undid a rag belt about his waist, loosened a knot +in it and offered the contents to his companions. Salt. A +murmur of approbation rose among them as each took a +few grains between the tips of his fingers. + +They ate voraciously; then, glutted, lay down on the +ground, facing the sky. They sang monotonous, sad +songs, uttering a strident shout after each stanza. + + + +III + + +In the brush and foliage of the sierra, Demetrio Macias +and his threescore men slept until the halloo of the horn, +blown by Pancracio from the crest of a peak, awakened +them. + +"Time, boys! Look around and see what's what!" +Anastasio Montanez said, examining his rifle springs. +Yet he was previous; an hour or more elapsed with no +sound or stir save the song of the locust in the brush or +the frog stirring in his mudhole. At last, when the ulti- +mate faint rays of the moon were spent in the rosy dim- +ness of the dawn, the silhouette of a soldier loomed at the +end of the trail. As they strained their eyes, they could +distinguish others behind him, ten, twenty, a hundred. +. . . Then, suddenly, darkness swallowed them up. Only +when the sun rose, Demetrio's band realized that the +canyon was alive with men, midgets seated on miniature +horses. + +"Look at 'em, will you?" said Pancracio. "Pretty, ain't +they? Come on, boys, let's go and roll marbles with 'em." + +Now the moving dwarf figures were lost in the dense +chaparral, now they reappeared, stark and black against +the ocher. The voices of officers, as they gave orders, and +soldiers, marching at ease, were clearly audible. +Demetrio raised his hand; the locks of rifles clicked. +"Fire!" he cried tensely. + +Twenty-one men shot as one; twenty-one soldiers fell +off their horses. Caught by surprise, the column halted, +etched like bas-reliefs in stone against the rocks. + +Another volley and a score of soldiers hurtled down +from rock to rock. + +"Come out, bandits. Come out, you starved dogs!" + +"To hell with you, you corn rustlers!" + +"Kill the cattle thieves! Kill 'em!" + + +The soldiers shouted defiance to their enemies; the lat- +ter, giving proof of a marksmanship which had already +made them famous, were content to keep under cover, +quiet, mute. + +"Look, Pancracio," said Meco, completely black save +for his eyes and teeth. "This is for that man who passes +that tree. I'll get the son of a . . ." + +"Take that! Right in the head. You saw it, didn't you, +mate? Now, this is for the fellow on the roan horse. +Down you come, you shave-headed bastard!" + +"I'll give that lad on the trail's edge a shower of lead. +If you don't hit the river, I'm a liar! Now: look at him!" + +"Oh, come on, Anastasio don't be cruel; lend me your +rifle. Come along, one shot, just one!" + +Manteca and Quail, unarmed, begged for a gun as a +boon, imploring permission to fire at least a shot apiece. +"Come out of your holes if you've got any guts!" + +"Show your faces, you lousy cowards!" + +From peak to peak, the shouts rang as distinctly as +though uttered across a street. Suddenly, Quail stood up, +naked, holding his trousers to windward as though he +were a bullfighter flaunting a red cape, and the soldiers +below the bull. A shower of shots peppered upon +Demetrio's men. + +"God! That was like a hornet's nest buzzing over- +head," said Anastasio Montanez, lying flat on the ground +without daring to wink an eye. + +"Here, Quail, you son of a bitch, you stay where I +told you," roared Demetrio. + +They crawled to take new positions. The soldiers, con- +gratulating themselves on their successes, ceased firing +when another volley roused them. + +"More coming!" they shouted. + +Some, panic-stricken, turned their horses back; others, +abandoning their mounts, began to climb up the moun- +tain and seek shelter behind the rocks. The officers had +to shoot at them to enforce discipline. + +"Down there, down there!" said Demetrio as he leveled +his rifle at the translucent thread of the river. + +A soldier fell into the water; at each shot, invariably +a soldier bit the dust. Only Demetrio was shooting in that +direction; for every soldier killed, ten or twenty of them, +intact, climbed afresh on the other side. + +"Get those coming up from under! Los de Abajo! +Get the underdogs!" he screamed. + +Now his fellows were exchanging rifles, laughing and +making wagers on their marksmanship. + +"My leather belt if I miss that head there, on the black +horse!" + +"Lend me your rifle, Meco." + +"Twenty Mauser cartridges and a half yard of sausage +if you let me spill that lad riding the bay mare. All right! +Watch me.... There! See him jump! Like a bloody deer." + +"Don't run, you half-breeds. Come along with you! +Come and meet Father Demetrio!" + +Now it was Demetrio's men who screamed insults. +Manteca, his smooth face swollen in exertion, yelled his +lungs out. Pancracio roared, the veins and muscles in his +neck dilated, his murderous eyes narrowed to two evil +slits. + +Demetrio fired shot after shot, constantly warning his +men of impending danger, but they took no heed until +they felt the bullets spattering them from one side. + +"Goddamn their souls, they've branded me!" Demetrio +cried, his teeth flashing. + +Then, very swiftly, he slid down a gully and was lost.... + + + +IV + + +Two men were missing, Serapio the candymaker, and +Antonio, who played the cymbals in the Juchipila band. +"Maybe they'll join us further on," said Demetrio. + +The return journey proved moody. Anastasio Montanez +alone preserved his equanimity, a kindly expression play- +ing in his sleepy eyes and on his bearded face. Pancracio's +harsh, gorillalike profile retained its repulsive immuta- +bility. + +The soldiers had retreated; Demetrio began the search +for the soldiers' horses which had been hidden in the +sierra. + +Suddenly Quail, who had been walking ahead, shrieked. +He had caught sight of his companions swinging from +the branches of a mesquite. There could be no doubt of +their identity; Serapio and Antonio they certainly were. +Anastasio Montanez prayed brokenly. + +"Our Father Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy +name. Thy kingdom come..." + +"Amen," his men answered in low tones, their heads +bowed, their hats upon their breasts. . . . + +Then, hurriedly, they took the Juchipila canyon north- +ward, without halting to rest until nightfall. + +Quail kept walking close to Anastasio unable to +banish from his mind the two who were hanged, their +dislocated limp necks, their dangling legs, their arms +pendulous, and their bodies moving slowly in the wind. + +On the morrow, Demetrio complained bitterly of his +wound; he could no longer ride on horseback. They were +forced to carry him the rest of the way on a makeshift +stretcher of leaves and branches. + +"He's bleeding frightfully," said Anastasio Montanez, +tearing off one of his shirt-sleeves and tying it tightly +about Demetrio's thigh, a little above the wound. + +"That's good," said Venancio. "It'll keep him from +bleeding and stop the pain." + +Venancio was a barber. In his native town, he pulled +teeth and fulfilled the office of medicine man. He was +accorded an unimpeachable authority because he had +read The Wandering Jew and one or two other books. +They called him "Doctor"; and since he was conceited +about his knowledge, he employed very few words. + +They took turns, carrying the stretcher in relays of +four over the bare stony mesa and up the steep passes. + +At high noon, when the reflection of the sun on the +calcareous soil burned their shoulders and made the +landscape dimly waver before their eyes, the monoto- +nous, rhythmical moan of the wounded rose in unison +with the ceaseless cry of the locusts. They stopped to rest +at every small hut they found hidden between the steep, +jagged rocks. + +"Thank God, a kind soul and tortillas full of beans and +chili are never lacking," Anastasio Montanez said with +a triumphant belch. + +The mountaineers would shake calloused hands with +the travelers, saying: + +"God's blessing on you! He will find a way to help you +all, never fear. We're going ourselves, starting tomorrow +morning. We're dodging the draft, with those damned +Government people who've declared war to the death on +us, on all the poor. They come and steal our pigs, our +chickens and corn, they burn our homes and carry our +women off, and if they ever get hold of us they'll kill us +like mad dogs, and we die right there on the spot and +that's the end of the story!" + +At sunset, amid the flames dyeing the sky with vivid, +variegated colors, they descried a group of houses up +in the heart of the blue mountains. Demetrio ordered +them to carry him there. + +These proved to be a few wretched straw huts, dis- +persed all over the river slopes, between rows of young +sprouting corn and beans. They lowered the stretcher +and Demetrio, in a weak voice, asked for a glass of +water. + +Groups of squalid Indians sat in the dark pits of the +huts, men with bony chests, disheveled, matted hair, +and ruddy cheeks; behind them, eyes shone up from +floors of fresh reeds. + +A child with a large belly and glossy dark skin came +close to the stretcher to inspect the wounded man. An +old woman followed, and soon all of them drew about +Demetrio in a circle. + +A girl sympathizing with him in his plight brought a +jicara of bluish water. With hands shaking, Demetrio took +it up and drank greedily. + +"Will you have some more?" + +He raised his eyes and glanced at the girl, whose +features were common but whose voice had a note of +kindness in it. Wiping his sweating brow with the back of +his palm and turning on one side, he gasped: +"May God reward you." + +Then his whole body shook, making the leaves of the +stretcher rustle. Fever possessed him; he fainted. + +"It's a damp night and that's terrible for the fever," +said Remigia, an old wrinkled barefooted woman, wear- +ing a cloth rag for a blouse. + +She invited them to move Demetrio into her hut. + +Pancracio, Anastasio Montanez, and Quail lay down +beside the stretcher like faithful dogs, watchful of their +master's wishes. The rest scattered about in search of +food. + +Remigia offered them all she had, chili and tortillas. + +"Imagine! I had eggs, chickens, even a goat and her +kid, but those damn soldiers wiped me out clean." + +Then, making a trumpet of her hands, she drew near +Anastasio and murmured in his ear: + +"Imagine, they even carried away Senora Nieves' +little girl!" + + + +V + + +Suddenly awakening, Quail opened his eyes and +stood up. + +"Montanez, did you hear? A shot, Montanez! Hey, +Montanez, get up!" + +He shook him vigorously until Montanez ceased +snoring and in turn woke up. + +"What in the name of . . . Now you're at it again, +damn it. I tell you there aren't ghosts any more," An- +astasio muttered out of a half-sleep. +"I heard a shot, Montanez!" +"Go back to sleep, Quail, or I'll bust your nose." + +"Hell, Anastasio I tell you it's no nightmare. I've for- +gotten those fellows they hung, honest. It's a shot, I tell +you. I heard it all right." +"A shot, you say? All right, then, hand me my gun." + +Anastasio Montanez rubbed his eyes, stretched out his +arms and legs, and stood up lazily. + +They left the hut. The sky was solid with stars; the +moon rose like a sharp scythe. The confused rumor of +women crying in fright resounded from the various huts; +the men who had been sleeping in the open, also woke up +and the rattle of arms echoed over the mountain. +"You cursed fool, you've maimed me for life." +A voice rang clearly through the darkness. +"Who goes there?" + +The shout echoed from rock to rock, through mound +and over hollow, until it spent itself at the far, silent +reaches of the night. + +"Who goes there?" Anastasio repeated his challenge +louder, pulling back the lock of his Mauser. +"One of Demetrio's men," came the answer. + +"It's Pancracio," Quail cried joyfully. Relieved, he rested +the butt of his rifle on the ground. + +Pancracio appeared, holding a young man by the arms; +the newcomer was covered with dust from his felt hat to +his coarse shoes. A fresh bloodstain lay on his trousers +close to the heel. + +"Who's this tenderfoot?" Anastasio demanded. + +"You know I'm on guard around here. Well, I hears a +noise in the brush, see, and I shouts, 'Who goes there?' +and then this lad answers, 'Carranza! Carranza!' I don't +know anyone by that name, and so I says, 'Carranza, +hell!' and I just pumps a bit of lead into his hoof." + +Smiling, Pancracio turned his beardless head around as +if soliciting applause. +Then the stranger spoke: +"Who's your commander?" + +Proudly, Anastasio raised his head, went up to him +and looked him in the face. The stranger lowered his tone +considerably. + +"Well, I'm a revolutionist, too, you know. The Govern- +ment drafted me and I served as a private, but I man- +aged to desert during the battle the day before yesterday, +and I've been walking about in search of you all." + +"So he's a Government soldier, eh?" A murmur of in- +credulity rose from the men, interrupting the stranger. + +"So that's what you are, eh? One of those damn half- +breeds," said Anastasio Montanez. "Why the hell didn't +you pump your lead in his brain, Pancracio?" + +"What's he talking about, anyhow? I can't make head +nor tail of it. He says he wants to see Demetrio and that +he's got plenty to say to him. But that's all right: we've +got plenty of time to do anything we damn well please so +long as you're in no hurry, that's all," said Pancracio, +loading his gun. + +"What kind of beasts are you?" the prisoner cried. +He could say no more: Anastasio's fist, crashing down +upon his face, sent his head turning on his neck, covered +with blood. +"Shoot the half-breed!" +"Hang him!" +"Burn him alive; he's a lousy Federal." + +In great excitement, they yelled and shrieked and were +about to fire at the prisoner. + +"Sssh! Shut up! I think Demetrio's talking now," An- +astasio said, striving to quiet them. Indeed, Demetrio, +having ascertained the cause of the turmoil, ordered them +to bring the prisoner before him. + +"It's positively infamous, senor; look," Luis Cervantes +said, pointing to the bloodstains on his trousers and to his +bleeding face. + +"All right, all right. But who in hell are you? That's +what I want to know," Demetrio said. + +"My name is Luis Cervantes, sir. I'm a medical stu- +dent and a journalist. I wrote a piece in favor of the +revolution, you see; as a result, they persecuted me, +caught me, and finally landed me in the barracks." + +His ensuing narrative was couched in terms of such +detail and expressed in terms so melodramatic that it +drew guffaws of mirth from Pancracio and Manteca. + +"All I've tried to do is to make myself clear on this +point. I want you to be convinced that I am truly +one of your coreligionists. . . ." + +"What's that? What did you say? Car . . . what?" +Demetrio asked, bringing his ear close to Cervantes. + +"Coreligionist, sir, that is to say, a person who posses- +ses the same religion, who is inspired by the same ideals, +who defends and fights for the same cause you are now +fighting for." + +Demetrio smiled: + +"What are we fighting for? That's what I'd like to +know." + +In his disconcertment, Luis Cervantes could find no +reply. + +"Look at that mug, look at 'im! Why waste any time, +Demetrio? Let's shoot him," Pancracio urged impatiently. + +Demetrio laid a hand on his hair which covered his +ears, and stretching himself out for a long time, seemed to +be lost in thought. Having found no solution, he said: + +"Get out, all of you; it's aching again. Anastasio put +out the candle. Lock him up in the corral and let Pan- +cracio and Manteca watch him. Tomorrow, we'll see." + + + + +VI + +Through the shadows of the starry night, Luis Cer- +vantes had not yet managed to detect the exact shape of +the objects about him. Seeking the most suitable resting- +place, he laid his weary bones down on a fresh pile of +manure under the blurred mass of a huizache tree. He +lay down, more exhausted than resigned, and closed his +eyes, resolutely determined to sleep until his fierce keepers +or the morning sun, burning his ears, awakened him. +Something vaguely like warmth at his side, then a tired +hoarse breath, made him shudder. He opened his eyes +and feeling about him with his hands, he sensed the +coarse hairs of a large pig which, resenting the presence of +a neighbor, began to grunt. + +All Luis' efforts to sleep proved quite useless, not +only because the pain of his wound or the bruises on his +flesh smarted, but because he suddenly realized the +exact nature of his failure. + +Yes, failure! For he had never learned to appreciate +exactly the difference between fulminating sentences of +death upon bandits in the columns of a small country +newspaper and actually setting out in search of them, +and tracking them to their lairs, gun in hand. During his +first day's march as volunteer lieutenant, he had begun to +suspect the error of his ways--a brutal sixty miles' +journey it was, that left his hips and legs one mass of +raw soreness and soldered all his bones together. A week +later, after his first skirmish against the rebels, he under- +stood every rule of the game. Luis Cervantes would have +taken up a crucifix and solemnly sworn that as soon as +the soldiers, gun in hand, stood ready to shoot, some pro- +foundly eloquent voice had spoken behind them, saying, +"Run for your lives." It was all crystal clear. Even his +noble-spirited horse, accustomed to battle, sought to +sweep back on its hind legs and gallop furiously away, +to stop only at a safe distance from the sound of firing. +The sun was setting, the mountain became peopled with +vague and restless shadows, darkness scaled the ram- +parts of the mountain hastily. What could be more log- +ical then, than to seek refuge behind the rocks and at- +tempt to sleep, granting mind and body a sorely needed +rest? + +But the soldier's logic is the logic of absurdity. On the +morrow, for example, his colonel awakened him rudely +out of his sleep, cuffing and belaboring him unmerci- +fully, and, after having bashed in his face, deprived him +of his place of vantage. The rest of the officers, moreover, +burst into hilarious mirth and holding their sides with +laughter begged the colonel to pardon the deserter. The +colonel, therefore, instead of sentencing him to be shot, +kicked his buttocks roundly for him and assigned him to +kitchen police. + +This signal insult was destined to bear poisonous +fruit. Luis Cervantes determined to play turncoat; in- +deed, mentally, he had already changed sides. Did not +the sufferings of the underdogs, of the disinherited +masses, move him to the core? Henceforth he espoused +the cause of Demos, of the subjugated, the beaten and +baffled, who implore justice, and justice alone. He be- +came intimate with the humblest private. More, even, he +shed tears of compassion over a dead mule which fell, +load and all, after a terribly long journey. + +From then on, Luis Cervantes' prestige with the sol- +diers increased. Some actually dared to make confes- +sions. One among them, conspicuous for his sobriety +and silence, told him: "I'm a carpenter by trade, you +know. I had a mother, an old woman nailed to her chair +for ten years by rheumatism. In the middle of the night, +they pulled me out of my house; three damn policemen; +I woke up a soldier twenty-five miles away from my +hometown. A month ago our company passed by there +again. My mother was already under the sod! . . . So +there's nothing left for me in this wide world; no one +misses me now, you see. But, by God, I'm damned if I'll +use these cartridges they make us carry, against the +enemy. If a miracle happens (I pray for it every night, +you know, and I guess our Lady of Guadalupe can do +it all right), then I'll join Villa's men; and I swear by the +holy soul of my old mother, that I'll make every one of +these Government people pay, by God I will." + +Another soldier, a bright young fellow, but a charlatan, +at heart, who drank habitually and smoked the narcotic +marihuana weed, eyeing him with vague, glassy stare, +whispered in his ear, "You know, partner . . . the men +on the other side ... you know, the other side . . . you +understand . . . they ride the best horses up north there, +and all over, see? And they harness their mounts with +pure hammered silver. But us? Oh hell, we've got to ride +plugs, that's all, and not one of them good enough to +stagger round a water well. You see, don't you, partner? +You see what I mean? You know, the men on the other +side-they get shiny new silver coins while we get only +lousy paper money printed in that murderer's factory, +that's what we get, yes, that's ours, I tell you!" + +The majority of the soldiers spoke in much the same +tenor. Even a top sergeant candidly confessed, "Yes, I +enlisted all right. I wanted to. But, by God, I missed the +right side by a long shot. What you can't make in a life- +time, sweating like a mule and breaking your back in +peacetime, damn it all, you can make in a few months +just running around the sierra with a gun on your back, +but not with this crowd, dearie, not with this lousy +outfit ...." + +Luis Cervantes, who already shared this hidden, im- +placably mortal hatred of the upper classes, of his offi- +cers, and of his superiors, felt that a veil had been re- +moved from his eyes; clearly, now, he saw the final out- +come of the struggle. And yet what had happened? The +first moment he was able to join his coreligionists, in- +stead of welcoming him with open arms, they threw him +into a pigsty with swine for company. + +Day broke. The roosters crowed in the huts. The +chickens perched in the huizache began to stretch their +wings, shake their feathers, and fly down to the ground. + +Luis Cervantes saw his guards lying on top of a dung +heap, snoring. In his imagination, he reviewed the fea- +tures of last night's men. One, Pancracio, was pock- +marked, blotchy, unshaven; his chin protruded, his +forehead receded obliquely; his ears formed one solid +piece with head and neck--a horrible man. The other, +Manteca, was so much human refuse; his eyes were al- +most hidden, his look sullen; his wiry straight hair fen +over his ears, forehead and neck; his scrofulous lips +hung eternally agape. Once more, Luis Cervantes felt +his flesh quiver. + + + +VII + + +Still drowsy, Demetrio ran his hand through his ruf- +fled hair, which hung over his moist forehead, pushed it +back over his ears, and opened his eyes. + +Distinctly he heard the woman's melodious voice which +he had already sensed in his dream. He walked toward +the door. + +It was broad daylight; the rays of sunlight filtered +through the thatch of the hut. + +The girl who had offered him water the day before, +the girl of whom he had dreamed all night long, now +came forward, kindly and eager as ever. This time she +carried a pitcher of milk brimming over with foam. + +"It's goat's milk, but fine just the same. Come on now: +taste it." + +Demetrio smiled gratefully, straightened up, grasped +the clay pitcher, and proceeded to drink the milk in little +gulps, without removing his eyes from the girl. +She grew self-conscious, lowered her eyes. + +"What's your name?" he asked. + +"Camilla." + +"Ah, there's a lovely name! And the girl that bears it, +lovelier still!" + +Camilla blushed. As he sought to seize her wrist, she +grew frightened, and Picking up the empty pitcher, flew +out the door. + +"No, Demetrio," Anastasio Montanez commented +gravely, "you've got to break them in first. Hmm! It's a +hell of a lot of scars the women have left on my body. +Yes, my friend, I've a heap of experience along that line." + +"I feel all right now, Compadre." Demetrio pretended +he had not heard him. "I had fever, and I sweated like a +horse all night, but I feel quite fresh today. The thing +that's irking me hellishly is that Goddamn wound. Can +Venancio to look after me." + +"What are we going to do with the tenderfoot we +caught last night?" Pancracio asked. + +"That's right: I was forgetting all about him." + +As usual, Demetrio hesitated a while before he reached +a decision. + +"Here, Quail, come here. Listen: you go and find out +where's the nearest church around here. I know there's +one about six miles away. Go and steal a priest's robe +and bring it back." + +"What's the idea?" asked Pancracio in surprise. + +"Well, I'll soon find out if this tenderfoot came here +to murder me. I'll tell him he's to be shot, see, and +Quail will put on the priest's robes, say that he's a +priest and hear his confession. If he's got anything up +his sleeve, he'll come out with it, and then I'll shoot +him. Otherwise I'll let him go." + +"God, there's a roundabout way to tackle the ques- +tion. If I were you, I'd just shoot him and let it go at +that," said Pancracio contemptuously. + +That night Quail returned with the priest's robes; +Demetrio ordered the prisoner to be led in. Luis Cer- +vantes had not eaten or slept for two days, there were +deep black circles under his eyes; his face was deathly +pale, his lips dry and colorless. He spoke awkwardly, +slowly: "You can do as you please with me. . . . I am +convinced I was wrong to come looking for you." + +There was a prolonged silence. Then: + +"I thought that you would welcome a man who comes +to offer his help, with open arms, even though his help +was quite worthless. After all, you might perhaps have +found some use for it. What, in heaven's name, do I +stand to gain, whether the revolution wins or loses?" + +Little by little he grew more animated; at times the +languor in his eyes disappeared. + +"The revolution benefits the poor, the ignorant, all +those who have been slaves all their lives, all the un- +happy people who do not even suspect they are poor be- +cause the rich who stand above them, the rich who rule +them, change their sweat and blood and tears into +gold. . ." + +"Well, what the hell is the gist of all this palaver? +I'll be damned if I can stomach a sermon," Pancracio +broke in. + +"I wanted to fight for the sacred cause of the op- +pressed, but you don't understand . . . you cast me +aside. . . . Very well, then, you can do as you please +with me!" + +"All I'm going to do now is to put this rope around +your neck. Look what a pretty white neck you've got." + +"Yes, I know what brought you here," Demetrio in- +terrupted dryly, scratching his head. "I'm going to have +you shot!" + +Then, looking at Anastasio he said: + +"Take him away. And . . . if he wants to confess, +bring the priest to him." + +Impassive as ever, Anastasio took the prisoner gently +by the arm. + +"Come along this way, Tenderfoot." + +They all laughed uproariously, when a few minutes +later, Quail appeared in priestly robes. + +"By God, this tenderfoot certainly talks his head off," +Quail said. "You know, I've a notion he was having a +bit of a laugh on me when I started asking him ques- +tions." + +"But didn't he have anything to say?" + +"Nothing, save what he said last night." + +"I've a hunch he didn't come here to shoot you at +all, Compadre," said Anastasio. + +"Give him something to eat and guard him." + + + + +VIII + + +On the morrow, Luis Cervantes was barely able to +get up. His injured leg trailing behind him, he shuffled +from hut to hut in search of a little alcohol, a kettle of +boiled water and some rags. With unfailing kindness, Ca- +milla provided him with all that he wanted. + +As he began washing his foot, she sat beside him, +and, with typical mountaineer's curiosity, inquired: + +"Tell me, who learned you how to cure people? Why +did you boil that water? Why did you boil the rags? +Look, look, how careful you are about everything! And +what did you put on your hands? Really. . . . And why +did you pour on alcohol? I just knew alcohol was good +to rub on when you had a bellyache, but . . . Oh, I +see! So you was going to be a doctor, huh? Ha, ha, that's +a good one! Why don't you mix it with cold water? +Well, there's a funny sort of a trick. Oh, stop fooling +me . . . the idea: little animals alive in the water unless +you boil it! Ugh! Well, I can't see nothing in it myself." + +Camilla continued to cross-question him with such fa- +miliarity that she suddenly found herself addressing him +intimately, in the singular tu. Absorbed in his own +thoughts, Luis Cervantes had ceased listening to her. +He thought: + +Where are those men on Pancho Villa's payroll, so +admirably equipped and mounted, who only get paid in +those pure silver pieces Villa coins at the Chihuahua +mint? Bah! Barely two dozen half-naked mangy men, +some of them riding decrepit mares with the coat +nibbled off from neck to withers. Can the accounts +given by the Government newspapers and by myself be +really true and are these so-called revolutionists simply +bandits grouped together, using the revolution as a won- +derful pretext to glut their thirst for gold and blood? +Is it all a lie, then? Were their sympathizers talking a +lot of exalted nonsense? + +If on one hand the Government newspapers vied +with each other in noisy proclamation of Federal victory +after victory, why then had a paymaster on his way +from Guadalajara started the rumor that President +Huerta's friends and relatives were abandoning the capi- +tal and scuttling away to the nearest port? Was +Huerta's, "I shall have peace, at no matter what cost," +a meaningless growl? Well, it looked as though the +revolutionists or bandits, call them what you will, were +going to depose the Government. Tomorrow would there- +fore belong wholly to them. A man must consequently +be on their side, only on their side. + +"No," he said to himself almost aloud, "I don't think +I've made a mistake this time." + +"What did you say?" Camilla asked. "I thought you'd +lost your tongue. . . . I thought the mice had eaten it +up!" + +Luis Cervantes frowned and cast a hostile glance at +this little plump monkey with her bronzed complexion, +her ivory teeth, and her thick square toes. + +"Look here, Tenderfoot, you know how to tell fairy +stories, don't you?" + +For all answer, Luis made an impatient gesture and +moved off, the girl's ecstatic glance following his re- +treating figure until it was lost on the river path. So +profound was her absorption that she shuddered in nerv- +ous surprise as she heard the voice of her neighbor, one- +eyed Maria Antonia, who had been spying from her hut, +shouting: + +"Hey, you there: give him some love powder. Then +he might fall for you." + +"That's what you'd do, all right!" + +"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, you're quite wrong! +Faugh! I despise a tenderfoot, and don't forget it! +Ho there, Remigia, lend me some eggs, will you? My +chicken has been hatching since morning. There's some +gentlemen here, come to eat." + +Her neighbor's eyes blinked as the bright sunlight +poured into the shadowy hut, darker than usual, even, +as dense clouds of smoke rose from the stove. After a +few minutes, she began to make out the contour of the +various objects inside, and recognized the wounded man's +stretcher, which lay in one corner, close to the ashy- +gray galvanized iron roof. + +She sat down beside Remigia Indian-fashion, and, +glancing furtively toward where Demetrio rested, asked +in a low voice: + +"How's the patient, better? That's fine. Oh, how young +he is! But he's still pale, don't you think? So the wound's +not closed up yet. Well, Remigia, don't you think we'd +better try and do something about it?" + +Remigia, naked from the waist up, stretched her thin +muscular arms over the corn grinder, pounding the corn +with a stone bar she held in her hands. + +"Oh, I don't know; they might not like it," she an- +swered, breathing heavily as she continued her rude task. +"They've got their own doctor, you know, so--" + +"Hallo, there, Remigia," another neighbor said as she +came in, bowing her bony back to pass through the open- +ing, "haven't you any laurel leaves? We want to make a +potion for Maria Antonia who's not so well today, +what with her bellyache." + +In reality, her errand was but a pretext for asking +questions and passing the time of day in gossip, so she +turned her eyes to the corner where the patient lay and, +winking, sought information as to his health. + +Remigia lowered her eyes to indicate that Demetrio +was sleeping. + +"Oh, I didn't see you when I came in. And you're +here too, Panchita? Well, how are you?" +"Good morning to you, Fortunata. How are you?" + +"All right. But Maria Antonia's got the curse today +and her belly's aching something fierce." + +She sat Indian-fashion, with bent knees, huddling hip +to hip against Panchita. + +"I've got no laurel leaves, honey," Remigia answered, +pausing a moment in her work to push a mop of hair +back from over her sweaty forehead. Then, plunging +her two hands into a mass of corn, she removed a hand- +ful of it dripping with muddy yellowish water. "I've none +at all; you'd better go to Dolores, she's always got herbs, +you know." + +"But Dolores went to Cofradia last night. I don't +know, but they say they came to fetch her to help Uncle +Matias' girl who's big with child." + +"You don't say, Panchita?" + +The three old women came together forming an ani- +mated group, and speaking in low tones, began to gossip +with great gusto. + +"Certainly, I swear it, by God up there in heaven." + +"Well, well, I was the first one to say that Marcelina +was big with child, wasn't I? But of course no one would +believe me." + +"Poor girl. It's going to be terrible if the kid is her +uncle's, you know!" + +"God forbid!" + +"Of course it's not her uncle: Nazario had nothing to +do with it, I know. It was them damned soldiers, that's +who done it." + +"God, what a bloody mess! Another unhappy woman!" + +The cackle of the old hens finally awakened Demetrio. +They kept silent for a moment; then Panchita, taking +out of the bosom of her blouse a young pigeon which +opened its beak in suffocation, said: + +"To tell you the truth, I brought this medicine for +the gentleman here, but they say he's got a doctor, so +I suppose--" + +"That makes no difference, Panchita, that's no medi- +cine anyhow, it's simply something to rub on his body." + +"Forgive this poor gift from a poor woman, senor," +said the wrinkled old woman, drawing close to Demetrio, +"but there's nothing like it in the world for hemorrhages +and suchlike." + +Demetrio nodded hasty approval. They had already +placed a loaf of bread soaked in alcohol on his stomach; +although when this was removed he began to be cooler, +he felt that he was still feverish inside. + +"Come on, Remigia, you do it, you certainly know +how," the women said. + +Out of a reed sheath, Remigia pulled a long and +curved knife which served to cut cactus fruit. She took +the pigeon in one hand, turned it over, its breast up- +ward, and with the skill of a surgeon, ripped it in two +with a single thrust. + +"In the name of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Remigia +said, blessing the room and making the sign of the cross; +next, with infinite dexterity, she placed the warm bleed- +ing portions of the pigeon upon Demetrio's abdomen. + +"You'll see: you'll feel much better now." + +Obeying Remigia's instructions, Demetrio lay motion- +less, crumpled up on one side. + +Then Fortunata gave vent to her sorrows. She liked +these gentlemen of the revolution, all right, that she did +--for, three months ago, you know, the Government sol- +diers had run away with her only daughter. This had +broken her heart, Yes, and driven her all but crazy. + +As she began, Anastasio Montanez and Quail lay on +the floor near the stretcher, their mouths gaping, all +ears to the story. But Fortunata's wealth of detail by +the time she had told half of it bored Quail and he +left the hut to scratch himself out in the sun. By the +time Fortunata had at last concluded with a solemn "I +pray God and the Blessed Virgin Mary that you are +not sparing the life of a single one of those Federals +from hell," Demetrio, face to wall, felt greatly relieved +by the stomach cure, and was busy thinking of the best +route by which to proceed to Durango. Anastasio Mon- +tanez was snoring like a trombone. + + + + +X + + +"Why don't you call in the tenderfoot to treat you, +Compadre Demetrio," Anastasio Montanez asked his +chief, who had been complaining daily of chills and fever. +"You ought to see him; no one has laid a hand to him +but himself, and now he's so fit that he doesn't limp +a step." + +But Venancio, standing by with his tins of lard and +his dirty string rags ready, protested: + +"All right, if anybody lays a hand on Demetrio, I +won't be responsible." + +"Nonsense! Rot! What kind of doctor do you think +you are? You're no doctor at all. I'll wager you've al- +ready forgotten why you ever joined us," said Quail. + +"Well, I remember why you joined us, Quail," Ve- +nancio replied angrily. "Perhaps you'll deny it was be- +cause you had stolen a watch and some diamond rings." + +"Ha, ha, ha! That's rich! But you're worse, my lad; +you ran away from your hometown because you poi- +soned your sweetheart." + +"You're a Goddamned liar!" + +"Yes you did! And don't try and deny it! You fed her +Spanish fly and . . ." + +Venancio's shout of protest was drowned out in the +loud laughter of the others. Demetrio, looking pale and +sallow, motioned for silence. Then, plaintively: + +"That'll do. Bring in the student." + +Luis Cervantes entered. He uncovered Demetrio's +wound, examined it carefully, and shook his head. The +ligaments had made a furrow in the skin. The leg, badly +swollen, seemed about to burst. At every move he made, +Demetrio stifled a moan. Luis Cervantes cut the liga- +ments, soaked the wound in water, covered the leg with +large clean rags and bound it up. Demetrio was able to +sleep all afternoon and all night. On the morrow he +woke up happy. + +"That tenderfoot has the softest hand in the world!" +he said. + +Quickly Venancio cut in: + +"All right; just as you say. But don't forget that ten- +derfoots are like moisture, they seep in everywhere. It's +the tenderfoots who stopped us reaping the harvest of +the revolution." + +Since Demetrio believed in the barber's knowledge +implicitly, when Luis Cervantes came to treat him on +the next day he said: + +"Look here, do your best, see. I want to recover +soon and then you can go home or anywhere else you +damn well please." + +Discreetly, Luis Cervantes made no reply. + +A week, ten days, a fortnight elapsed. The Federal +troops seemed to have vanished. There was an abun- +dance of corn and beans, too, in the neighboring ranches. +The people hated the Government so bitterly that they +were overjoyed to furnish assistance to the rebels. De- +metrio's men, therefore, were peacefully waiting for the +complete recovery of their chief. + +Day after day, Luis Cervantes remained humble and +silent. + +"By God, I actually believe you're in love," De- +metrio said jokingly one morning after the daily treat- +ment. He had begun to like this tenderfoot. From then +on, Demetrio began gradually to show an increasing in- +terest in Cervantes' comfort. One day he asked him if +the soldiers gave him his daily ration of meat and milk; +Luis Cervantes was forced to answer that his sole nour- +ishment was whatever the old ranch women happened to +give him and that everyone still considered him an in- +truder. + +"Look here, Tenderfoot, they're all good boys, really," +Demetrio answered. "You've got to know how to handle +them, that's all. You mark my words; from tomorrow +on, there won't be a thing you'll lack." + +In effect, things began to change that very afternoon. +Some of Demetrio's men lay in the quarry, glancing at +the sunset that turned the clouds into huge clots of +congealed blood and listening to Venancio's amusing +stories culled from The Wandering Jew. Some of them, +lulled by the narrator's mellifluous voice, began to snore. +But Luis Cervantes listened avidly and as soon as +Venancio topped off his talk with a storm of anticlerical +denunciations he said emphatically: "Wonderful, wonder- +ful! What intelligence! You're a most gifted man!" + +"Well, I reckon it's not so bad," Venancio answered, +warming to the flattery, "but my parents died and I +didn't have a chance to study for a profession." + +"That's easy to remedy, I'm sure. Once our cause is +victorious, you can easily get a degree. A matter of two +or three weeks' assistant's work at some hospital and a +letter of recommendation from our chief and you'll be a +full-fledged doctor, all right. The thing is child's play." + +From that night onward Venancio, unlike the others, +ceased calling him Tenderfoot. He addressed him as +Louie. + +It was Louie, this, and Louie, that, right and left, all +the time. + + + + +XI + + +"Look here, Tenderfoot, I want to tell you some- +thing," Camilla called to Luis Cervantes, as he made his +way to the hut to fetch some boiling water for his foot. + +For days the girl had been restless. Her coy ways and +her reticence had finally annoyed the man; stopping sud- +denly, he stood up and eyeing her squarely: + +"All right. What do you want to tell me?" + +Camilla's tongue clove to her mouth, heavy and damp +as a rag; she could not utter a word. A blush suffused +her cheeks, turning them red as apples; she shrugged +her shoulders and bowed her head, pressing her chin +against her naked breast. Then without moving, with the +fixity of an idiot, she glanced at the wound, and said in +a whisper: + +"Look, how nicely it's healing now: it's like a red +Castille rose." + +Luis Cervantes frowned and with obvious disgust con- +tinued to care for his foot, completely ignoring her as +he worked. When he had finished, Camilla had vanished. + +For three days she was nowhere to be found. It was +always her mother, Agapita, who answered Cervantes' +call, and boiled the water for him and gave him rags. +He was careful to avoid questioning her. Three days +later, Camilla reappeared, more coy and eager than ever. + +The more distrait and indifferent Luis Cervantes grew, +the bolder Camilla. At last, she said: "Listen to me, you +nice young fellow, I want to tell you something pleas- +ant. Please go over the words of the revolutionary song +'Adelita' with me, will you? You can guess why, eh? I +want to sing it and sing it, over again often and often, +see? Then when you're off and away and when you've +forgotten all about Camilla, it'll remind me of you." + +To Luis Cervantes her words were like the noise of a +sharp steel knife drawn over the side of a glass bottle. +Blissfully unaware of the effect they had produced, she +proceeded, candid as ever: + +"Well, I want to tell you something. You don't know +that your chief is a wicked man, do you? Shall I tell you +what he did to me? You know Demetrio won't let a +soul but Mamma cook for him and me take him his food. +Well, the other day I take some food over to him and +what do you think he did to me, the old fool. He grabs +hold of my wrist and he presses it tight, tight as can +be, and then he starts pinching my legs. + +"'Come on, let me go,' I said. 'Keep still, lay off, you +shameless creature. You've got no manners, that's the +trouble with you.' So I wrestled with him, and shook my- +self free, like this, and ran off as fast as I could. What +do you think of that?" + +Camilla had never seen Luis Cervantes laugh so +heartily. + +"But it is really true, all this you've told me?" + +Utterly at a loss, Camilla could not answer. Then he +burst into laughter again and repeated the question. A +sense of confusion came upon her. Disturbed, troubled, +she said brokenly: + +"Yes, it's the truth. And I wanted to tell you about it. +But you don't seem to feel at all angry." + +Once more Camilla glanced adoringly at Luis Cer- +vantes' radiant, clean face; at his glaucous, soft eyes, +his cheeks pink and polished as a porcelain doll's; at his +tender white skin that showed below the line of his +collar and on his shoulders, protruding from under a +rough woolen poncho; at his hair, ever so slightly curled. + +"What the devil are you waiting for, fool? If the chief +likes you, what more do you want?" + +Camilla felt something rise within her breast, an empty +ache that became a knot when it reached her throat; she +closed her eyes fast to hold back the tears that welled up +in them. Then, with the back of her hand, she wiped her +wet cheeks, and just as she had done three days +ago, fled with all the swiftness of a young deer. + + + + +XII + + +Demetrio's wound had already healed. They be- +gan to discuss various projects to go northward where, +according to rumor, the rebels had beaten the Federal +troops all along the line. + +A certain incident came to precipitate their action. +Seated on a crag of the sierra in the cool of the after- +noon breeze, Luis Cervantes gazed away in the distance, +dreaming and killing time. Below the narrow rock Pan- +cracio and Manteca, lying like lizards between the +jarales along one of the river margins, were playing +cards. Anastasio Montanez, looking on indifferently, +turned his black hairy face toward Luis Cervantes and, +leveling his kindly gaze upon him, asked: + +"Why so sad, you from the city? What are you day- +dreaming about? Come on over here and let's have a +chat!" + +Luis Cervantes did not move; Anastasio went over to +him and sat down beside him like a friend. + +"What you need is the excitement of the city. I wager +you shine your shoes every day and wear a necktie. Now, +I may look dirty and my clothes may be torn to shreds, +but I'm not really what I seem to be. I'm not here because +I've got to be and don't you think so. Why, I own twenty +oxen. Certainly I do; ask my friend Demetrio. I cleared +ten bushels last harvest time. You see, if there's one +thing I love, that's riling these Government fellows and +making them furious. The last scrape I had--it'll be eight +months gone now, ever since I've joined these men--I +stuck my knife into some captain. He was just a no- +body, a little Government squirt. I pinked him here, see, +right under the navel. And that's why I'm here: that and +because I wanted to give my mate Demetrio a hand." +"Christ! The bloody little darling of my life!" Manteca +shouted, waxing enthusiastic over a winning hand. He +placed a twenty-cent silver coin on the jack of spades. + +"If you want my opinion, I'm not much on gam- +bling. Do you want to bet? Well, come on then, I'm game. +How do you like the sound of this leather snake jingling, +eh?" + +Anastasio shook his belt; the silver coins rang as he +shook them together. + +Meanwhile, Pancracio dealt the cards, the jack of +spades turned up out of the deck and a quarrel ensued. +Altercation, noise, then shouts, and, at last, insults. Pan- +cracio brought his stony face close to Manteca, who +looked at him with snake's eyes, convulsive, foaming at +the mouth. Another moment and they would have been +exchanging blows. Having completely exhausted their +stock of direct insults, they now resorted to the most +flowery and ornate insulting of each other's ancestors, +male and female, paternal or maternal. Yet nothing unto- +ward occurred. + +After their supply of words was exhausted, they gave +over gambling and, their arms about each other's shoul- +ders, marched off in search of a drink of alcohol. + +"I don't like to fight with my tongue either, it's not de- +cent. I'm right, too, eh? I tell you no man living has ever +breathed a word to me against my mother. I want to be +respected, see? That's why you've never seen me fooling +with anyone." There was a pause. Then, suddenly, "Look +there, Tenderfoot," Anastasio said, changing his tone +and standing up with one hand spread over his eyes. +"What's that dust over there behind the hillock. By God, +what if it's those damned Federals and we sitting here +doing nothing. Come on, let's go and warn the rest of the +boys." + +The news met with cries of joy. + +"Ah, we're going to meet them!" cried Pancracio jubi- +lantly, first among them to rejoice. + +"Of course, we're going to meet them! We'll strip them +clean of everything they brought with them." + +A few moments later, amid cries of joy and a bustle of +arms, they began saddling their horses. But the enemy +turned out to be a few burros and two Indians, driving +them forward. + +"Stop them, anyhow. They must have come from some- +where and they've probably news for us," Demetrio +said. + +Indeed, their news proved sensational. The Federal +troops had fortified the hills in Zacatecas; this was said +to be Huerta's last stronghold, but everybody predicted +the fall of the city. Many families had hastily fled south- +ward. Trains were overloaded with people; there was a +scarcity of trucks and coaches; hundreds of people, +panic-stricken, walked along the highroad with their be- +longings in a pack slung over their shoulders. General +Panfilo Natera was assembling his men at Fresnillo; the +Federals already felt it was all up with them. + +"The fall of Zacatecas will be Huerta's requiescat in +pace," Luis Cervantes cried with unusual excitement. +"We've got to be there before the fight starts so that we +can join Natera's army." + +Then, suddenly, he noted the surprise with which De- +metrio and his men greeted his suggestion. Crestfallen, +he realized they still considered him of no account. + +On the morrow, as the men set off in search of good +mounts before taking to the road again, Demetrio called +Luis Cervantes: + +"Do you really want to come with us? Of course you're +cut from another timber, we all know that; God knows +why you should like this sort of life. Do you imagine +we're in this game because we like it? Now, I like the ex- +citement all right, but that's not all. Sit down here; +that's right. Do you want to know why I'm a rebel? Well, +I'll tell you. + +"Before the revolution, I had my land all plowed, see, +and just right for sowing and if it hadn't been for a little +quarrel with Don Monico, the boss of my town, Moya- +hua, I'd be there in a jiffy getting the oxen ready for the +sowing, see? + +"Here, there, Pancracio, pull down two bottles of beer +for me and this tenderfoot. . . . By the Holy Cross . . . +drinking won't hurt me, now, will it?" + + + + +XIII + + + +I was born in Limon, close by Moyahua, right in +the heart of the Juchipila canyon. I had my house and my +cows and a patch of land, see: I had everything I wanted. +Well, I suppose you know how we farmers make a habit +of going over to town every week to hear Mass and the +sermon and then to market to buy our onions and to- +matoes and in general everything they want us to buy at +the ranch. Then you pick up some friends and go to Prim- +itivo Lopez' saloon for a bit of a drink before dinner; +well, you sit there drinking and you've got to be sociable, +so you drink more than you should and the liquor goes +to your head and you laugh and you're damned happy +and if you feel like it, you sing and shout and kick up a +bit of a row. That's quite all right, anyhow, for we're not +doing anyone any harm. But soon they start bothering +you and the policeman walks up and down and stops oc- +casionally, with his ear to the door. To put it in a nut- +shell, the chief of police and his gang are a lot of joykill- +ers who decide they want to put a stop to your fun, see? +But by God! You've got guts, you've got red blood in +your veins and you've got a soul, too, see? So you lose +your temper, you stand up to them and tell them to go to +the Devil. + +"Now if they understand you, everything's all right; +they leave you alone and that's all there is to it; but some- +times they try to talk you down and hit you and--well, +you know how it is, a fellow's quick-tempered and he'll be +damned if he'll stand for someone ordering him around +and telling him what's what. So before you know it, you've +got your knife out or your gun leveled, and then off you +go for a wild run in the sierra, until they've forgotten the +corpse, see? + +"All right: that's just about what happened to Mon- +ico. The fellow was a greater bluffer than the rest. He +couldn't tell a rooster from a hen, not he. Well, I spit on +his beard because he wouldn't mind his own business. +That's all, there's nothing else to tell. + +"Then, just because I did that, he had the whole God- +damned Federal Government against me. You must have +heard something about that story in Mexico City-- +about the killing of Madero and some other fellow, +Felix or Felipe Diaz, or something--I don't know. +Well, this man Monico goes in person to Zacatecas to +get an army to capture me. They said that I was a Mad- +erista and that I was going to rebel. But a man like me +always has friends. Somebody came and warned me of +what was coming to me, so when the soldiers reached +Limon I was miles and miles away. Trust me! Then my +compadre Anastasio who killed somebody came and +joined me, and Pancracio and Quail and a lot of friends +and acquaintances came after him. Since then we've been +sort of collecting, see? You know for yourself, we get +along as best we can. . . ." + +For a while, both men sat meditating in silence. Then: + +"Look here, Chief," said Luis Cervantes. "You know +that some of Natera's men are at Juchipila, quite near +here. I think we should join them before they capture +Zacatecas. All we need do is speak to the General." + +"I'm no good at that sort of thing. And I don't like the +idea of accepting orders from anybody very much." + +"But you've only a handful of men down here; you'll +only be an unimportant chieftain. There's no argument +about it, the revolution is bound to win. After it's all +over they'll talk to you just as Madero talked to all those +who had helped him: 'Thank you very much, my friends, +you can go home now. . . .' " + +"Well that's all I want, to be let alone so I can go +home." + +"Wait a moment, I haven't finished. Madero said: +'You men have made me President of the Republic. You +have run the risk of losing your lives and leaving your +wives and children destitute; now I have what I wanted, +you can go back to your picks and shovels, you can +resume your hand-to-mouth existence, you can go half- +naked and hungry just as you did before, while we, your +superiors, will go about trying to pile up a few million +pesos. . . .'" +Demetrio nodded and, smiling, scratched his head. + +"You said a mouthful, Louie," Venancio the barber +put in enthusiastically. "A mouthful as big as a church!" + +"As I was saying," Luis Cervantes resumed, "when +the revolution is over, everything is over. Too bad that so +many men have been killed, too bad there are so many +widows and orphans, too bad there was so much blood- +shed. + +"Of course, you are not selfish; you say to yourself: +'All I want to do is go back home.' But I ask you, is it +fair to deprive your wife and kids of a fortune which God +himself places within reach of your hand? Is it fair to +abandon your motherland in this solemn moment when +she most needs the self-sacrifice of her sons, when she +most needs her humble sons to save her from falling +again in the clutches of her eternal oppressors, execu- +tioners, and caciques? You must not forget that the thing +a man holds most sacred on earth is his motherland." + +Macias smiled, his eyes shining. + +"Will it be all right if we go with Natera?" + +"Not only all right," Venancio said insinuatingly, "but +I think it absolutely necessary." + +"Now Chief," Cervantes pursued, "I took a fancy to +you the first time I laid eyes on you and I like you more +and more every day because I realize what you are +worth. Please let me be utterly frank. You do not yet +realize your lofty noble function. You are a modest man +without ambitions, you do not wish to realize the ex- +ceedingly important role you are destined to play in the +revolution. It is not true that you took up arms simply be- +cause of Senor Monico. You are under arms to protest +against the evils of all the caciques who are overrunning +the whole nation. We are the elements of a social move- +ment which will not rest until it has enlarged the destinies +of our motherland. We are the tools Destiny makes use of +to reclaim the sacred rights of the people. We are not +fighting to dethrone a miserable murderer, we are fight- +ing against tyranny itself. What moves us is what men call +ideals; our action is what men call fighting for a prin- +ciple. A principle! That's why Villa and Natera and Car- +ranza are fighting; that's why we, every man of us, are +fighting." + +"Yes ... yes ... exactly what I've been thinking my- +self," said Venancio in a climax of enthusiasm. + +"Hey, there, Pancracio," Macias called, "pull down +two more beers." + + + + +XIV + + +"You ought to see how clear that fellow can make +things, Compadre," Demetrio said. All morning long he +had been pondering as much of Luis Cervantes' speech +as he had understood. + +"I heard him too," Anastasio answered. "People who +can read and write get things clear, all right; nothing +was ever truer. But what I can't make out is how you're +going to go and meet Natera with as few men as we +have." + +"That's nothing. We're going to do things different +now. They tell me that as soon as Crispin Robles enters +a town he gets hold of all the horses and guns in the +place; then he goes to the jail and lets all the jailbirds +out, and, before you know it, he's got plenty of men, all +right. You'll see. You know I'm beginning to feel that +we haven't done things right so far. It don't seem right +somehow that this city guy should be able to tell us +what to do." + +"Ain't it wonderful to be able to read and write!" + +They both sighed, sadly. Luis Cervantes came in with +several others to find out the day of their departure. + +"We're leaving no later than tomorrow," said Demetrio +without hesitation. + +Quail suggested that musicians be summoned from +the neighboring hamlet and that a farewell dance be +given. His idea met with enthusiasm on all sides. + +"We'll go, then," Pancracio shouted, "but I'm certainly +going in good company this time. My sweetheart's coming +along with me!" + +Demetrio replied that he too would willingly take along +a girl he had set his eye on, but that he hoped none of his +men would leave bitter memories behind them as the +Federals did. + +"You won't have long to wait. Everything will be ar- +ranged when you return," Luis Cervantes whispered to him. + +"What do you mean?" Demetrio asked. "I thought +that you and Camilla . . ." + +"There's not a word of truth in it, Chief. She likes you +but she's afraid of you, that's all." + +"Really? Is that really true?" + +"Yes. But I think you're quite right in not wanting +to leave any bitter feelings behind you as you go. When +you come back as a conqueror, everything will be dif- +ferent. They'll all thank you for it even." + +"By God, you're certainly a shrewd one," Demetrio re- +plied, patting him on the back. + +At sundown, Camilla went to the river to fetch water +as usual. Luis Cervantes, walking down the same trail, +met her. Camilla felt her heart leap to her mouth. But, +without taking the slightest notice of her, Luis Cervantes +hastily took one of the turns and disappeared among the +rocks. + +At this hour, as usual, the calcinated rocks, the sun- +burnt branches, and the dry weeds faded into the semi- +obscurity of the shadows. The wind blew softly, the green +lances of the young corn leaves rustling in the twilight. +Nothing was changed; all nature was as she had found it +before, evening upon evening; but in the stones and the +dry weeds, amid the fragrance of the air and the light +whir of falling leaves, Camilla sensed a new strangeness, +a vast desolation in everything about her. + +Rounding a huge eroded rock, suddenly Camilla found +herself face to face with Luis, who was seated on a stone, +hatless, his legs dangling. + +"Listen, you might come down here to say good-bye." + +Luis Cervantes was obliging enough; he jumped down +and joined her. + +"You're proud, ain't you? Have I been so mean that +you don't even want to talk to me?" + +"Why do you say that, Camilla? You've been extreme- +ly kind to me; why, you've been more than a friend, +you've taken care of me as if you were my sister. Now +I'm about to leave, I'm very grateful to you; I'll always +remember you." + +"Liar!" Camilla said, her face transfigured with joy. +"Suppose I hadn't come after you?" + +"I intended to say good-bye to you at the dance this +evening." + +"What dance? If there's a dance, I'll not go to it." + +"Why not?" + +"Because I can't stand that horrible man . . . Deme- +trio!" + +"Don't be silly, child," said Luis. "He's really very fond +of you. Don't go and throw away this opportunity. You'll +never have one like it again in your life. Don't you know +that Demetrio is on the point of becoming a general, you +silly girl? He'll be a very wealthy man, with horses ga- +lore; and you'll have jewels and clothes and a fine house +and a lot of money to spend. Just imagine what a life +you would lead with him!" + +Camilla stared up at the blue sky so he should not +read the expression in her eyes. A dead leaf shook slowly +loose from the crest of a tree swinging slowly on the +wind, fell like a small dead butterfly at her feet. She +bent down and took it in her fingers. Then, without look- +ing at him, she murmured: + +"It's horrible to hear you talk like that. . . . I like +you . . . no one else. . . . Ah, well, go then, go: I feel +ashamed now. Please leave me!" + +She threw away the leaf she had crumpled in her +hand and covered her face with a corner of her apron. +When she opened her eyes, Luis Cervantes had disap- +peared. + +She followed the river trail. The river seemed to have +been sprinkled with a fine red dust. On its surface drifted +now a sky of variegated colors, now the dark crags, +half light, half shadow. Myriads of luminous insects +twinkled in a hollow. Camilla, standing on the beach of +washed, round stones, caught a reflection of herself in +the waters; she saw herself in her yellow blouse with the +green ribbons, her white skirt, her carefully combed hair, +her wide eyebrows and broad forehead, exactly as she +had dressed to please Luis. She burst into tears. + +Among the reeds, the frogs chanted the implacable +melancholy of the hour. Perched on a dry root, a dove +wept also. + + + + +XV + + +That evening, there was much merrymaking at the +dance, and a great quantity of mezcal was drunk. +"I miss Camilla," said Demetrio in a loud voice. +Everybody looked about for Camilla. + +"She's sick, she's got a headache," said Agapita harsh- +ly, uneasy as she caught sight of the malicious glances +leveled at her. + +When the dance was over, Demetrio, somewhat un- +steady on his feet, thanked all the kind neighbors who +had welcomed them and promised that when the revo- +lution had triumphed he would remember them one and +all, because "hospital or jail is a true test of friendship." + +"May God's hand lead you all," said an old woman. +"God bless you all and keep you well," others added. +Utterly drunk, Maria Antonia said: +"Come back soon, damn soon!" + +On the morrow, Maria Antonia, who, though she was +pockmarked and walleyed, nevertheless enjoyed a no- +torious reputation--indeed it was confidently proclaimed +that no man had failed to go with her behind the river +weeds at some time or other--shouted to Camilla: + +"Hey there, you! What's the matter? What are you +doing there skulking in the corner with a shawl tied +round your head! You're crying, I wager. Look at her +eyes; they look like a witch's. There's no sorrow lasts +more than three days!" + +Agapita knitted her eyebrows and muttered indistinct- +ly to herself. + +The old crones felt uneasy and lonesome since Deme- +trio's men had left. The men, too, in spite of their gossip +and insults, lamented their departure since now they +would have no one to bring them fresh meat every day. +It is pleasant indeed to spend your time eating and drink- +ing, and sleeping all day long in the cool shade of the +rocks, while clouds ravel and unravel their fleecy threads +on the blue shuttle of the sky. + +"Look at them again. There they go!" Maria Antonia +yelled. "Why, they look like toys." + +Demetrio's men, riding their thin nags, could still be +descried in the distance against the sapphire translucence +of the sky, where the broken rocks and the chaparral +melted into a single bluish smooth surface. Across the air +a gust of hot wind bore the broken, faltering strains of +"La Adelita," the revolutionary song, to the settlement. +Camilla, who had come out when Maria Antonia +shouted, could no longer control herself; she dived back +into her hut, unable to restrain her tears and moaning. +Maria Antonia burst into laughter and moved off. + +"They've cast the evil eye on my daughter," Agapita +said in perplexity. She pondered a while, then duly reached +a decision. From a pole in the hut she took down a piece +of strong leather which her husband used to hitch up the +yoke. This pole stood between a picture of Christ and +one of the Virgin. Agapita promptly twisted the leather +and proceeded to administer a sound thrashing to Camil- +la in order to dispel the evil spirits. + + +Riding proudly on his horse, Demetrio felt like a new +man. His eyes recovered their peculiar metallic brilliance, +and the blood flowed, red and warm, through his cop- +pery, pure-blooded Aztec cheeks. + +The men threw out their chests as if to breathe the +widening horizon, the immensity of the sky, the blue from +the mountains and the fresh air, redolent with the various +odors of the sierra. They spurred their horses to a gallop +as if in that mad race they laid claims of possession to +the earth. What man among them now remembered the +stern chief of police, the growling policeman, or the con- +ceited cacique? What man remembered his pitiful hut +where he slaved away, always under the eyes of the +owner or the ruthless and sullen foreman, always forced +to rise before dawn, and to take up his shovel, basket, +or goad, wearing himself out to earn a mere pitcher of +atole and a handful of beans? + +They laughed, they sang, they whistled, drunk with the +sunlight, the air of the open spaces, the wine of life. + +Meco, prancing forward on his horse, bared his white +glistening teeth, joking and kicking up like a clown. + +"Hey, Pancracio," he asked with utmost seriousness, +"my wife writes me I've got another kid. How in hell is +that? I ain't seen her since Madero was President." + +"That's nothing," the other replied. "You just left her +a lot of eggs to hatch for you!" + +They all laughed uproariously. Only Meco, grave and +aloof, sang in a voice horribly shrill: + + +"I gave her a penny +That wasn't enough. +I gave her a nickel +The wench wanted more. +We bargained. I asked +If a dime was enough +But she wanted a quarter. +By God! That was tough! +All wenches are fickle +And trumpery stuff!" + + + +The sun, beating down upon them, dulled their minds +and bodies and presently they were silent. All day long +they rode through the canyon, up and down the steep, +round hills, dirty and bald as a man's head, hill after hill +in endless succession. At last, late in the afternoon, they +descried several stone church towers in the heart of a +bluish ridge, and, beyond, the white road with its curling +spirals of dust and its gray telegraph poles. + +They advanced toward the main road; in the distance +they spied a figure of an Indian sitting on the embank- +ment. They drew up to him. He proved to be an un- +friendly looking old man, clad in rags; he was laboriously +attempting to mend his leather sandals with the help of a +dull knife. A burro loaded with fresh green grass stood +by. Demetrio accosted him. + +"What are you doing, Grandpa?" + +"Gathering alfalfa for my cow." + +"How many Federals are there around here?" + +"Just a few: not more than a dozen, I reckon." + +The old man grew communicative. He told them of +many important rumors: Obregon was besieging Guada- +lajara, Torres was in complete control of the Potosi re- +gion, Natera ruled over Fresnillo. + +"All right," said Demetrio, "you can go where you're +headed for, see, but you be damn careful not to tell any- +one you saw us, because if you do, I'll pump you full of +lead. And I could track you down, even if you tried to +hide in the pit of hell, see?" + +"What do you say, boys?" Demetrio asked them as +soon as the old man had disappeared. + +"To hell with the mochos! We'll kill every blasted one +of them!" they cried in unison. + +Then they set to counting their cartridges and the hand +grenades the Owl had made out of fragments of iron +tubing and metal bed handles. + +"Not much to brag about, but we'll soon trade them +for rifles," Anastasio observed. + +Anxiously they pressed forward, spurring the thin flanks +of their nags to a gallop. Demetrio's brisk, imperious +tones of order brought them abruptly to a halt. + +They dismounted by the side of a hill, protected by +thick huizache trees. Without unsaddling their horses, +each began to search for stones to serve as pillows. + + + + +XVI + +At midnight Demetrio Macias ordered the march to +be resumed. The town was five or six miles away; the best +plan was to take the soldiers by surprise, before reveille. + +The sky was cloudy, with here and there a star shining. +From time to time a flash of lightning crossed the sky +with a red dart, illumining the far horizon. + +Luis Cervantes asked Demetrio whether the success of +the attack might not be better served by procuring a guide +or leastways by ascertaining the topographic conditions of +the town and the precise location of the soldiers' quar- +ters. + +"No," Demetrio answered, accompanying his smile with +a disdainful gesture, "we'll simply fall on them when they +least expect it; that's all there is to it, see? We've done it +before all right, lots of times! Haven't you ever seen the +squirrels stick their heads out of their holes when you +poured in water? Well, that's how these lousy soldiers are +going to feel. Do you see? They'll be frightened out of +their wits the moment they hear our first shot. Then they'll +slink out and stand as targets for us." + +"Suppose the old man we met yesterday lied to us. +Suppose there are fifty soldiers instead of twenty. Who +knows but he's a spy sent out by the Federals!" + +"Ha, Tenderfoot, frightened already, eh?" Anastasio +Montanez mocked. + +"Sure! Handling a rifle and messing about with band- +ages are two different things," Pancracio observed. + +"Well, that's enough talk, I guess," said Meco. "All we +have to do is fight a dozen frightened rats." + +"This fight won't convince our mothers that they gave +birth to men or whatever the hell you like. . . ." Manteca +added. + +When they reached the outskirts of the town, Venancio +walked ahead and knocked at the door of a hut. + +"Where's the soldiers' barracks?" he inquired of a man +who came out barefoot, a ragged serape covering his +body. + +"Right there, just beyond the Plaza," he answered. + +Since nobody knew where the city square was, Venan- +cio made him walk ahead to show the way. Trembling +with fear, the poor devil told them they were doing him +a terrible wrong. + +"I'm just a poor day laborer, sir; I've got a wife and a +lot of kids." + +"What the hell do you think I have, dogs?" Demetrio +scowled. "I've got kids too, see?" + +Then he commanded: + +"You men keep quiet. Not a sound out of you! And +walk down the middle of the street, single file." + +The rectangular church cupola rose above the small +houses. + +"Here, gentlemen; there's the Plaza beyond the church. +Just walk a bit further and there's the barracks." + +He knelt down, then, imploring them to let him go, but +Pancracio, without pausing to reply, struck him across +the chest with his rifle and ordered him to proceed. + +"How many soldiers are there?" Luis Cervantes asked. + +"I don't want to lie to you, boss, but to tell you the +truth, yes, sir, to tell you God's truth, there's a lot of +them, a whole lot of 'em." + +Luis Cervantes turned around to stare at Demetrio, +who feigned momentary deafness. + + They were soon in the city square. + +A loud volley of rifle shots rang out, deafening them. +Demetrio's horse reared, staggered on its hind legs, bent +its forelegs, and fell to the ground, kicking. The Owl +uttered a piercing cry and fell from his horse which +rushed madly to the center of the square. + +Another volley: the guide threw up his arms and fell +on his back without a sound. + +With all haste, Anastasio Montanez helped Demetrio +up behind him on his horse; the others retreated, seek- +ing shelter along the walls of the houses. + +"Hey, men," said a workman sticking his head out of a +large door, "go for 'em through the back of the chapel. +They're all in there. Cut back through this street, then +turn to the left; you'll reach an alley. Keep on going ahead +until you hit the chapel." + +As he spoke a fresh volley of pistol shots, directed +from the neighboring roofs, fell like a rain about them. + +"By God," the man said, "those ain't poisonous spiders; +they're only townsmen scared of their own shadow. Come +in here until they stop." + + "How many of them are there?" asked Demetrio. + +"There were only twelve of them. But last night they +were scared out of their wits so they wired to the town +beyond for help. I don't know how many of them there +are now. Even if there are a hell of a lot of them, it +doesn't cut any ice! Most of them aren't soldiers, you +know, but drafted men; if just one of them starts mu- +tinying, the rest will follow like sheep. My brother was +drafted; they've got him there. I'll go along with you +and signal to him; all of them will desert and follow you. +Then we'll only have the officers to deal with! If you want +to give me a gun or something. . . ." + +"No more rifles left, brother. But I guess you can +put these to some use," Anastasio Montanez said, passing +him two hand grenades. + +The officer in command of the Federals was a young +coxcomb of a captain with a waxed mustache and blond +hair. As long as he felt uncertain about the strength of the +assailants, he had remained extremely quiet and prudent; +but now that they had driven the rebels back without al- +lowing them a chance to fire a single shot, he waxed bold +and brave. While the soldiers did not dare put out their +heads beyond the pillars of the building, his own shadow +stood against the pale clear dawn, exhibiting his well-built +slender body and his officer's cape bellying in the breeze. + + "Ha, I remember our coup d'etat!" + +His military career had consisted of the single adven- +ture when, together with other students of the Officers' +School, he was involved in the treacherous revolt of +Feliz Diaz and Huerta against President Madero. When- +ever the slightest insubordination arose, he invariably re- +called his feat at the Ciudadela. + +"Lieutenant Campos," he ordered emphatically, "take +a dozen men and wipe out the bandits hiding there! The +curs! They're only brave when it comes to guzzling meat +and robbing a hencoop!" + +A workingman appeared at the small door of the spiral +staircase, announcing that the assailants were hidden in +a corral where they might easily be captured. This mes- +sage came from the citizens keeping watch on housetops. + +"I'll go myself and get it over with!" the officer de- +clared impetuously. + +But he soon changed his mind. Before he had reached +the door, he retraced his steps. + +"Very likely they are waiting for more men and, of +course, it would be wrong for me to abandon my post. +Lieutenant Campos, go there yourself and capture them +dead or alive. We'll shoot them at noon when every- +body's coming out of church. Those bandits will see the +example I'll set around here. But if you can't capture +them, Lieutenant, kill them all. Don't leave a man of +them alive, do you understand?" + +In high good humor, he began pacing up and down +the room, formulating the official despatch he would send +off no later than today. + + +To His Honor the Minister for War, +General A. Blanquet, +Mexico City. + +Sir: +I have the honor to inform your Excellency that on the +morning of . . . a rebel army, five hundred strong, com- +manded by . . . attacked this town, which I am charged +to defend. With such speed as the gravity of the situation +called for, I fortified my post in the town. The battle +lasted two hours. Despite the superiority of the enemy in +men and equipment, I was able to defeat and rout them. +Their casualties were twenty killed and a far greater num- +ber of wounded, judging from the trails of blood they left +behind them as they retreated. I am pleased to state there +was no casualty on our side. I have the honor to con- +gratulate Your Excellency upon this new triumph for the +Federal arms. Viva Presidente Huerta! Viva Mexico! + + +"Well," the young captain mused, "I'll be promoted to +major." He clasped his hands together, jubilant. At this +precise moment, a detonation rang out. His ears buzzed, he-- + + + +XVII + + + +"If we get through the corral, we can make the alley, +eh?" Demetrio asked. + +"That's right," the workman answered. "Beyond the +corral there's a house, then another corral, then there's +a store." + +Demetrio scratched his head, thoughtfully. This time +his decision was immediate. + +"Can you get hold of a crowbar or something like that +to make a hole through the wall?" + +"Yes, we'll get anything you want, but . . ." + +"But what? Where can we get a crowbar?" + +"Everything is right there. But it all belongs to the +boss." + +Without further ado, Demetrio strode into the shed +which had been pointed out as the toolhouse. + +It was all a matter of a few minutes. Once in the alley, +hugging to the walls, they marched forward in single file +until they reached the rear of the church. Now they had +but a single fence and the rear wall of the chapel to +scale. + +"God's will be done!" Demetrio said to himself. He was +the first to clamber over. + +Like monkeys the others followed him, reaching the +other side with bleeding, grimy hands. The rest was easy. +The deep worn steps along the stonework made their as- +cent of the chapel wall swifter. The church vault hid +them from the soldiers. + +"Wait a moment, will you?" said the workman. "I'll +go and see where my brother is; I'll let you know and then +you'll get at the officers." + +But no one paid the slightest attention to him. + +For a second, Demetrio glanced at the soldiers' black +coats hanging on the wall, then at his own men, thick on +the church tower behind the iron rail. He smiled with +satisfaction and turning to his men said: + +"Come on, now, boys!" + +Twenty bombs exploded simultaneously in the midst +of the soldiers who, awaking terrified out of their sleep, +started up, their eyes wide open. But before they had real- +ized their plight, twenty more bombs burst like thunder +upon them leaving a scattering of men killed or maimed. + +"Don't do that yet, for God's sake! Don't do it till I +find my brother," the workman implored in anguish. + +In vain an old sergeant harangued the soldiers, insult- +ing them in the hope of rallying them. For they were rats, +caught in a trap, no more, no less. Some of the soldiers, +attempting to reach the small door by the staircase, fell +to the ground pierced by Demetrio's shots. Others fell at +the feet of these twenty-odd specters, with faces and +breasts dark as iron, clad in long torn trousers of white +cloth which fell to their leather sandals, scattering death +and destruction below them. In the belfry, a few men +struggled to emerge from the pile of dead who had fallen +upon them. + +"It's awful, Chief!" Luis Cervantes cried in alarm. +"We've no more bombs left and we left our guns in the +corral." + +Smiling, Demetrio drew out a large shining knife. In the +twinkling of an eye, steel flashed in every hand. Some +knives were large and pointed, others wide as the palm +of a hand, others heavy as bayonets. + +"The spy!" Luis Cervantes cried triumphantly. "Didn't +I tell you?" + +"Don't kill me, Chief, please don't kill me," the old ser- +geant implored squirming at the feet of Demetrio, who +stood over him, knife in hand. The victim raised his +wrinkled Indian face; there was not a single gray hair in +his head today. Demetrio recognized the spy who had +lied to him the day before. Terrified, Luis Cervantes +quickly averted his face. The steel blade went crack, +crack, on the old man's ribs. He toppled backward, his +arms spread, his eyes ghastly. + +"Don't kill my brother, don't kill him, he's my brother!" +the workman shouted in terror to Pancracio who was +pursuing a soldier. But it was too late. With one thrust, +Pancracio had cut his neck in half, and two streams of +scarlet spurted from the wound. + + "Kill the soldiers, kill them all!" + +Pancracio and Manteca surpassed the others in the +savagery of their slaughter, and finished up with the +wounded. Montanez, exhausted, let his arm fall; it hung +limp to his side. A gentle expression still filled his glance; +his eyes shone; he was naive as a child, unmoral as a +hyena. + + "Here's one who's not dead yet," Quail shouted. + +Pancracio ran up. The little blond captain with curled +mustache turned pale as wax. He stood against the door +to the staircase unable to muster enough strength to take +another step. + +Pancracio pushed him brutally to the edge of the cor- +ridor. A jab with his knee against the captain's thigh-- +then a sound not unlike a bag of stones falling from the +top of the steeple on the porch of the church. + +"My God, you've got no brains!" said Quail. "If I'd +known what you were doing, I'd have kept him for my- +self. That was a fine pair of shoes you lost!" + +Bending over them, the rebels stripped those among +the soldiers who were best clad, laughing and joking as +they despoiled them. Brushing back his long hair, that +had fallen over his sweating forehead and covered his +eyes, Demetrio said: + +"Now let's get those city fellows!" + + + +XVIII + + +On the day General Natera began his advance against +the town of Zacatecas, Demetrio with a hundred men went +to meet him at Fresnillo. + +The leader received him cordially. + +"I know who you are and the sort of men you bring. +I heard about the beatings you gave the Federals from +Tepic to Durango." + +Natera shook hands with Demetrio effusively while Luis +Cervantes said: + +"With men like General Natera and Colonel Demetrio +Macias, we'll cover our country with glory." + +Demetrio understood the purpose of those words, after +Natera had repeatedly addressed him as "Colonel." + +Wine and beer were served; Demetrio and Natera +drank many a toast. Luis Cervantes proposed: "The tri- +umph of our cause, which is the sublime triumph of Jus- +tice, because our ideal--to free the noble, long-suffering +people of Mexico--is about to be realized and because +those men who have watered the earth with their blood +and tears will reap the harvest which is rightfully theirs." + +Natera fixed his cruel gaze on the orator, then turned his +back on him to talk to Demetrio. Presently, one of Na- +tera's officers, a young man with a frank open face, drew +up to the table and stared insistently at Cervantes. + +"Are you Luis Cervantes?" + +"Yes. You're Solis, eh?" + +"The moment you entered I thought I recognized you. +Well, well, even now I can hardly believe my eyes!" + +"It's true enough!" + +"Well, but . . . look here, let's have a drink, come +along." Then: + +"Hm," Solis went on, offering Cervantes a chair, +"since when have you turned rebel?" + +"I've been a rebel the last two months!" + +"Oh, I see! That's why you speak with such faith and +enthusiasm about things we all felt when we joined the +revolution." + +"Have you lost your faith or enthusiasm?" + +"Look here, man, don't be surprised if I confide in you +right off. I am so anxious to find someone intelligent +among this crowd, that as soon as I get hold of a man +like you I clutch at him as eagerly as I would at a glass +of water, after walking mile after mile through a parched +desert. But frankly, I think you should do the explaining +first. I can't understand how a man who was correspond- +ent of a Government newspaper during the Madero re- +gime, and later editorial writer on a Conservative jour- +nal, who denounced us as bandits in the most fiery ar- +ticles, is now fighting on our side." + +"I tell you honestly: I have been converted," Cervantes +answered. + +"Are you absolutely convinced?" + +Solis sighed, filled the glasses; they drank. + +"What about you? Are you tired of the revolution?" +asked Cervantes sharply. + +"Tired? My dear fellow, I'm twenty-five years old and +I'm fit as a fiddle! But am I disappointed? Perhaps!" + +"You must have sound reasons for feeling that way." + +"I hoped to find a meadow at the end of the road. I +found a swamp. Facts are bitter; so are men. That bitter- +ness eats your heart out; it is poison, dry rot. Enthu- +siasm, hope, ideals, happiness-vain dreams, vain dreams. +. . . When that's over, you have a choice. Either you +turn bandit, like the rest, or the timeservers will swamp +you. . . ." + +Cervantes writhed at his friend's words; his argument +was quite out of place . . . painful. . . . To avoid being +forced to take issue, he invited Solis to cite the cir- +cumstances that had destroyed his illusions. + +"Circumstances? No--it's far less important than that. +It's a host of silly, insignificant things that no one notices +except yourself . . . a change of expression, eyes shin- +ing-lips curled in a sneer-the deep import of a phrase +that is lost! Yet take these things together and they com- +pose the mask of our race . . . terrible . . . grotesque . . . +a race that awaits redemption!" + +He drained another glass. After a long pause, he con- +tinued: + +"You ask me why I am still a rebel? Well, the revolu- +tion is like a hurricane: if you're in it, you're not a man + . . . you're a leaf, a dead leaf, blown by the wind." + +Demetrio reappeared. Seeing him, Solis relapsed into +silence. + +"Come along," Demetrio said to Cervantes. "Come +with me." + +Unctuously, Solis congratulated Demetrio on the +feats that had won him fame and the notice of Pancho +Villa's northern division. + +Demetrio warmed to his praise. Gratefully, he heard his +prowess vaunted, though at times he found it difficult to +believe he was the hero of the exploits the other nar- +rated. But Solis' story proved so charming, so con- +vincing, that before long he found himself repeating it +as gospel truth. + +"Natera is a genius!" Luis Cervantes said when they had +returned to the hotel. "But Captain Solis is a nobody +. . . a timeserver." +Demetrio Macias was too elated to listen to him. +"I'm a colonel, my lad! And you're my secretary!" + +Demetrio's men made many acquaintances that eve- +ning; much liquor flowed to celebrate new friendships. +Of course men are not necessarily even tempered, nor is +alcohol a good counselor; quarrels naturally ensued. +Yet many differences that occurred were smoothed out in +a friendly spirit, outside the saloons, restaurants, or broth- +els. + +On the morrow, casualties were reported. Always a few +dead. An old prostitute was found with a bullet through +her stomach; two of Colonel Macias' new men lay in the +gutter, slit from ear to ear. + +Anastasio Montanez carried an account of the events +to his chief. Demetrio shrugged his shoulders. +"Bury them!" he said. + + + + +XIX + + +"They're coming back!" + +It was with amazement that the inhabitants of Fresnillo +learned that the rebel attack on Zacatecas had failed com- +pletely. + +"They're coming back!" + +The rebels were a maddened mob, sunburnt, filthy, +naked. Their high wide-brimmed straw hats hid their +faces. The "high hats" came back as happily as they had +marched forth a few days before, pillaging every hamlet +along the road, every ranch, even the poorest hut. + +"Who'll buy this thing?" one of them asked. He had +carried his spoils long: he was tired. The sheen of the +nickel on the typewriter, a new machine, attracted every +glance. Five times that morning the Oliver had changed +hands. The first sale netted the owner ten pesos; pres- +ently it had sold for eight; each time it changed hands, it +was two pesos cheaper. To be sure, it was a heavy bur- +den; nobody could carry it for more than a half-hour. + +"I'll give you a quarter for it!" Quail said. + +"Yours!" cried the owner, handing it over quickly, as +though he feared Quail might change his mind. Thus for +the sum of twenty-five cents, Quail was afforded the pleas- +ure of taking it in his hands and throwing it with all his +might against the wall. + +It struck with a crash. This gave the signal to all who +carried any cumbersome objects to get rid of them by +smashing them against the rocks. Objects of all sorts, +crystal, china, faience, porcelain, flew through the air. +Heavy, plated mirrors, brass candlesticks, fragile, delicate +statues, Chinese vases, any object not readily convertible +into cash fell by the wayside in fragments. + +Demetrio did not share the untoward exaltation. After +all, they were retreating defeated. He called Montanez +and Pancracio aside and said: + +"These fellows have no guts. It's not so hard to take a +town. It's like this. First, you open up, this way. . . ." +He sketched a vast gesture, spreading his powerful arms. +"Then you get close to them, like this. . . ." He brought +his arms together, slowly. "Then slam! Bang! Whack! +Crash!" He beat his hands against his chest. + +Anastasio and Pancracio, convinced by this simple, +lucid explanation answered: + +"That's God's truth! They've no guts! That's the trouble +with them!" + +Demetrio's men camped in a corral. + +"Do you remember Camilla?" Demetrio asked with a +sigh as he settled on his back on the manure pile where +the rest were already stretched out. +"Camilla? What girl do you mean, Demetrio?" +"The girl that used to feed me up there at the ranch!" + +Anastasio made a gesture implying: "I don't care a +damn about the women ... Camilla or anyone else...." + +"I've not forgotten," Demetrio went on, drawing on his +cigarette. "Yes, I was feeling like hell! I'd just finished +drinking a glass of water. God, but it was cool. . . . 'Don't +you want any more?' she asked me. I was half dead with +fever . . . and all the time I saw that glass of water, blue +. . . so blue . . . and I heard her little voice, 'Don't you +want any more?' That voice tinkled in my ears like a +silver hurdy-gurdy! Well, Pancracio, what about it? Shall +we go back to the ranch?" + +"Demetrio, we're friends, aren't we? Well then, listen. +You may not believe it, but I've had a lot of experience +with women. Women! Christ, they're all right for a while, +granted! Though even that's going pretty far. Demetrio, +you should see the scars they've given me . . . all over +my body, not to speak of my soul! To hell with women. +They're the devil, that's what they are! You may have +noticed I steer clear of them. You know why. And don't +think I don't know what I'm talking about. I've had a hell +of a lot of experience and that's no lie!" + +"What do you say, Pancracio? When are we going back +to the ranch?" Demetrio insisted, blowing gray clouds of +tobacco smoke into the air. + +"Say the day, I'm game. You know I left my woman +there too!" + +"Your woman, hell!" Quail said, disgruntled and sleepy. + +"All right, then, our woman! It's a good thing you're +kindhearted so we all can enjoy her when you bring her +over," Manteca murmured. + +"That's right, Pancracio, bring one-eyed Maria An- +tonia. We're all getting pretty cold around here," Meco +shouted from a distance. + +The crowd broke into peals of laughter. Pancracio and +Manteca vied with each other in calling forth oaths and +obscenity. + + + + +XX + +"Villa is coming!" + +The news spread like lightning. Villa--the magic word! +The Great Man, the salient profile, the unconquerable +warrior who, even at a distance, exerts the fascination of +a reptile, a boa constrictor. + +"Our Mexican Napoleon!" exclaimed Luis Cervantes. + +"Yes! The Aztec Eagle! He buried his beak of steel +in the head of Huerta the serpent!" Solis, Natera's chief +of staff, remarked somewhat ironically, adding: "At least, +that's how I expressed it in a speech I made at Ciudad +Juarez!" + +The two sat at the bar of the saloon, drinking beer. +The "high hats," wearing mufflers around their necks and +thick rough leather shoes on their feet, ate and drank +endlessly. Their gnarled hands loomed across table, +across bar. All their talk was of Villa and his men. The +tales Natera's followers related won gasps of astonish- +ment from Demetrio's men. Villa! Villa's battles! Ciu- +dad Juarez . . . Tierra Blanca . . . Chihuahua . . . Tor- +reon. . . . + +The bare facts, the mere citing of observation and ex- +perience meant nothing. But the real story, with its ex- +traordinary contrasts of high exploits and abysmal cruel- +ties was quite different. Villa, indomitable lord of the +sierra, the eternal victim of all governments . . . Villa +tracked, hunted down like a wild beast . . . Villa the rein- +carnation of the old legend; Villa as Providence, the ban- +dit, that passes through the world armed with the blazing +torch of an ideal: to rob the rich and give to the poor. It +was the poor who built up and imposed a legend about +him which Time itself was to increase and embellish as a +shining example from generation to generation. + +"Look here, friend," one of Natera's men told Anas- +tasio, "if General Villa takes a fancy to you, he'll give you +a ranch on the spot. But if he doesn't, he'll shoot +you down like a dog! God! You ought to see Villa's +troops! They're all northerners and dressed like lords! +You ought to see their wide-brimmed Texas hats and their +brand-new outfits and their four-dollar shoes, imported +from the U. S. A." + +As they retailed the wonders of Villa and his men, +Natera's men gazed at one another ruefully, aware that +their own hats were rotten from sunlight and moisture, +that their own shirts and trousers were tattered and +barely fit to cover their grimy, lousy bodies. + +"There's no such a thing as hunger up there. They +carry boxcars full of oxen, sheep, cows! They've got cars +full of clothing, trains full of guns, ammunition, food +enough to make a man burst!" + +Then they spoke of Villa's airplanes. + +"Christ, those planes! You know when they're close +to you, be damned if you know what the hell they are! +They look like small boats, you know, or tiny rafts . . . +and then pretty soon they begin to rise, making a hell of +a row. Something like an automobile going sixty miles an +hour. Then they're like great big birds that don't even +seem to move sometimes. But there's a joker! The God- +damn things have got some American fellow inside with +hand grenades by the thousand. Now you try and figure +what that means! The fight is on, see? You know how +a farmer feeds corn to his chickens, huh? Well, the Amer- +ican throws his lead bombs at the enemy just like that. +Pretty soon the whole damn field is nothing but a grave- +yard . . . dead men all over the dump . . . dead men here +. . . dead men there . . . dead men everywhere!" + +Anastasio Montanez questioned the speaker more par- +ticularly. It was not long before he realized that all this +high praise was hearsay and that not a single man in +Natera's army had ever laid eyes on Villa. + +"Well, when you get down to it, I guess it doesn't mean +so much! No man's got much more guts than any other +man, if you ask me. All you need to be a good fighter is +pride, that's all. I'm not a professional soldier even though +I'm dressed like hell, but let me tell you. I'm not forced +to do this kind of bloody job, because I own . . ." + +"Because I own over twenty oxen, whether you believe +it or not!" Quail said, mocking Anastasio. + + + + +XXI + + +The firing lessened, then slowly died out. Luis Cer- +vantes, who had been hiding amid a heap of ruins at the +fortification on the crest of the hill, made bold to show +his face. How he had managed to hang on, he did not +know. Nor did he know when Demetrio and his men had +disappeared. Suddenly he had found himself alone; then, +hurled back by an avalanche of infantry, he fell from his +saddle; a host of men trampled over him until he rose +from the ground and a man on horseback hoisted him +up behind him. After a few moments, horse and riders +fell. Left without rifle, revolver, or arms of any kind, Cer- +vantes found himself lost in the midst of white smoke and +whistling bullets. A hole amid a debris of crumbling +stone offered a refuge of safety. +"Hello, partner!" +"Luis, how are you!" + +"The horse threw me. They fell upon me. Then they +took my gun away. You see, they thought I was dead. +There was nothing I could do!" Luis Cervantes explained +apologetically. Then: + +"Nobody threw me down," Solis said. "I'm here be- +cause I like to play safe." + +The irony in Solis' voice brought a blush to Cer- +vantes' cheek. + +"By God, that chief of yours is a man!" Solis said. +"What daring, what assurance! He left me gasping--and a +hell of a lot of other men with more experience than me, +too!" + +Luis Cervantes vouchsafed no answer. + +"What! Weren't you there? Oh, I see! You found a +nice place for yourself at the right time. Come here, Luis, +I'll explain; let's go behind that rock. From this meadow +to the foot of the hill, there's no road save this path be- +low. To the right, the incline is too sharp; you can't do +anything there. And it's worse to the left; the ascent is so +dangerous that a second's hesitation means a fall down +those rocks and a broken neck at the end of it. All right! +A number of men from Moya's brigade who went down to +the meadow decided to attack the enemy's trenches the +first chance they got. The bullets whizzed about us, the +battle raged on all sides. For a time they stopped firing, +so we thought they were being attacked from behind. We +stormed their trenches--look, partner, look at that +meadow! It's thick with corpses! Their machine guns did +that for us. They mowed us down like wheat; only a hand- +ful escaped. Those Goddamned officers went white as a +sheet; even though we had reinforcements they were +afraid to order a new charge. That was when Demetrio +Macias plunged in. Did he wait for orders? Not he! He +just shouted: +"'Come on, boys! Let's go for them!' + +"'Damn fool!' I thought. 'What the hell does he think +he's doing!' + +"The officers, surprised, said nothing. Demetrio's +horse seemed to wear eagle's claws instead of hoofs, it +soared so swiftly over the rocks. 'Come on! Come on!' his +men shouted, following him like wild deer, horses and +men welded into a mad stampede. Only one young fellow +stepped wild and fell headlong into the pit. In a few sec- +onds the others appeared at the top of the hill, storming +the trenches and killing the Federals by the thousand. +With his rope, Demetrio lassoed the machine guns and +carried them off, like a bull herd throwing a steer. Yet his +success could not last much longer, for the Federals +were far stronger in numbers and could easily have de- +stroyed Demetrio and his men. But we took advantage of +their confusion, we rushed upon them and they soon +cleared out of their position. That chief of yours is a +wonderful soldier!" + +Standing on the crest of the hill, they could easily +sight one side of the Bufa peak. Its highest crag spread out +like the feathered head of a proud Aztec king. The three- +hundred-foot slope was literally covered with dead, their +hair matted, their clothes clotted with grime and blood. +A host of ragged women, vultures of prey, ranged over +the tepid bodies of the dead, stripping one man bare, de- +spoiling another, robbing from a third his dearest pos- +sessions. + +Amid clouds of white rifle smoke and the dense black +vapors of flaming buildings, houses with wide doors and +windows bolted shone in the sunlight. The streets seemed +to be piled upon one another, or wound picturesquely +about fantastic corners, or set to scale the hills nearby. +Above the graceful cluster of houses, rose the lithe +columns of a warehouse and the towers and cupola of the +church. + +"How beautiful the revolution! Even in its most bar- +barous aspect it is beautiful," Solis said with deep feel- +ing. Then a vague melancholy seized him, and speaking +low: + +"A pity what remains to do won't be as beautiful! We +must wait a while, until there are no men left to fight +on either side, until no sound of shot rings through the +air save from the mob as carrion-like it falls upon the +booty; we must wait until the psychology of our race, con- +densed into two words, shines clear and luminous as a +drop of water: Robbery! Murder! What a colossal failure +we would make of it, friend, if we, who offer our enthu- +siasm and lives to crush a wretched tyrant, became the +builders of a monstrous edifice holding one hundred or +two hundred thousand monsters of exactly the same sort. +People without ideals! A tyrant folk! Vain bloodshed!" + +Large groups of Federals pushed up the hill, fleeing +from the "high hats." A bullet whistled past them, singing +as it sped. After his speech, Alberto Solis stood lost in +thought, his arms crossed. Suddenly, he took fright. + +"I'll be damned if I like these plaguey mosquitoes!" he +said. "Let's get away from here!" + +So scornfully Luis Cervantes smiled that Solis sat +down on a rock quite calm, bewildered. He smiled. His +gaze roved as he watched the spirals of smoke from the +rifles, the dust of roofs crumbling from houses as they +fell before the artillery. He believed he discerned the sym- +bol of the revolution in these clouds of dust and smoke +that climbed upward together, met at the crest of the hill +and, a moment after, were lost. . . . + +"By heaven, now I see what it all means!" +He sketched a vast gesture, pointing to the station. +Locomotives belched huge clouds of black dense smoke +rising in columns; the trains were overloaded with fugi- +tives who had barely managed to escape from the cap- +tured town. + +Suddenly he felt a sharp blow in the stomach. As though +his legs were putty, he rolled off the rock. His ears +buzzed. . . Then darkness . . . silence . . . eternity. . . . + + + +PART TWO + +Demetrio, nonplussed, scratched his head: "Look +here, don't ask me any more questions. . . . You gave me +the eagle I wear on my hat, didn't you? All right then; +you just tell me: 'Demetrio, do this or do that,' and that's +all there is to it." + + +To champagne, that sparkles and foams as the beaded +bubbles burst at the brim of the glass, Demetrio pre- +ferred the native tequila, limpid and fiery. + +The soldiers sat in groups about the tables in the res- +taurant, ragged men, filthy with sweat, dirt and smoke, +their hair matted, wild, disheveled. + +"I killed two colonels," one man clamored in a guttural +harsh voice. He was a small fat fellow, with embroidered +hat and chamois coat, wearing a light purple handker- +chief about his neck. + +"They were so Goddamned fat they couldn't even run. +By God, I wish you could have seen them, tripping and +stumbling at every step they took, climbing up the hill, +red as tomatoes, their tongues hanging out like hounds. +'Don't run so fast, you lousy beggars!' I called after them. +'I'm not so fond of frightened geese--stop, You bald- +headed bastards: I won't harm you! You needn't worry!' +By God, they certainly fell for it. Pop, pop! One shot for +each of them, and a well-earned rest for a pair of poor +sinners, be damned to them!" + +"I couldn't get a single one of their generals!" said a +swarthy man who sat in one corner between the wall +and the bar, holding his rifle between his outstretched +legs. "I sighted one: a fellow with a hell of a lot of gold +plastered all over him. His gold chevrons shone like a +Goddamned sunset. And I let him go by, fool that I was. +He took off his handkerchief and waved it. I stood there +with my mouth wide open like a fool! Then I ducked +and he started shooting, bullet after bullet. I let him kill +a poor cargador. Then I said: 'My turn, now! Holy Vir- +gin, Mother of God! Don't let me miss this son of a +bitch.' But, by Christ, he disappeared. He was riding +a hell of a fine nag; he went by me like lightning! There +was another poor fool coming up the road. He got it and +turned the prettiest somersault you ever saw!" + +Talk flew from lip to lip, each soldier vying with his +fellow, snatching the words from the other's mouth. As +they declaimed passionately, women with olive, swarthy +skins, bright eyes, and teeth of ivory, with revolvers at +their waists, cartridge-belts across their breasts, and broad +Mexican hats on their heads, wove their way like stray +street curs in and out among groups. A vulgar wench, +with rouged cheeks and dark brown arms and neck, +gave a great leap and landed on the bar near Demetrio's +table. + +He turned his head toward her and literally collided +with a pair of lubric eyes under a narrow forehead and +thick, straight hair, parted in the middle. + +The door opened wide. Anastasio, Pancracio, Quail, +and Meco filed in, dazed. + +Anastasio uttered a cry of surprise and stepped for- +ward to shake hands with the little fat man wearing a +charro suit and a lavender bandanna. A pair of old +friends, met again. So warm was their embrace, so tightly +they clutched each other that the blood rushed to their +heads, they turned purple. + +"Look here, Demetrio, I want the honor of introducing +you to Blondie. He's a real friend, you know. I love him +like a brother. You must get to know him, Chief, he's +a man! Do you remember that damn jail at Escobedo, +where we stayed together for over a year?" + +Without removing his cigar from his lips, Demetrio, +buried in a sullen silence amid the bustle and uproar, +offered his hand and said: + +"I'm delighted to meet you!" + +"So your name is Demetrio Macias?" the girl asked +suddenly. Seated on the bar, she swung her legs; at +every swing, the toes of her shoes touched Demetrio's +back. + +"Yes: I'm Demetrio Macias!" he said, scarcely turn- +ing toward her. + +Indifferently, she continued to swing her legs, display- +ing her blue stockings with ostentation. + +"Hey, War Paint, what are you doing here? Step down +and have a drink!" said the man called Blondie. + +The girl accepted readily and boldly thrust her way +through the crowd to a chair facing Demetrio. + +"So you're the famous Demetrio Macias, the hero of +Zacatecas?" the girl asked. +Demetrio bowed assent, while Blondie, laughing, said: + +"You're a wise one, War Paint. You want to sport a +general!" + +Without understanding Blondie's words, Demetrio +raised his eyes to hers; they gazed at each other like two +dogs sniffing one another with distrust. Demetrio could not +resist her furiously provocative glances; he was forced to +lower his eyes. + +From their seats, some of Natera's officers began to +hurl obscenities at War Paint. Without paying the slightest +attention, she said: + +"General Natera is going to hand you out a little +general's eagle. Put it here and shake on it, boy!" + +She stuck out her hand at Demetrio and shook it with +the strength of a man. Demetrio, melting to the con- +gratulations raining down upon him, ordered champagne. + +"I don't want no more to drink," Blondie said to the +waiter, "I'm feeling sick. Just bring me some ice water." + +"I want something to eat," said Pancracio. "Bring me +anything you've got but don't make it chili or beans!" + +Officers kept coming in; presently the restaurant was +crowded. Small stars, bars, eagles and insignia of every +sort or description dotted their hats. They wore wide silk +bandannas around their necks, large diamond rings on +their fingers, large heavy gold watch chains across their +breasts. + +"Here, waiter," Blondie cried, "I ordered ice water. +And I'm not begging for it either, see? Look at this bunch +of bills. I'll buy you, your wife, and all you possess, +see? Don't tell me there's none left--I don't care a damn +about that! It's up to you to find some way to get it and +Goddamned quick, too. I don't like to play about; I get +mad when I'm crossed. . . . By God, didn't I tell you I +wouldn't stand for any backchat? You won't bring it to +me, eh? Well, take this. . . ." +A heavy blow sent the waiter reeling to the floor. + +"That's the sort of man I am, General Macias! I'm +clean-shaven, eh? Not a hair on my chin? Do you know +why? Well, I'll tell you! You see I get mad easy as hell; +and when there's nobody to pick on, I pull my hair until +my temper passes. If I hadn't pulled my beard hair by +hair, I'd have died a long time ago from sheer anger!" + +"It does you no good to go to pieces when you're +angry," a man affirmed earnestly from below a hat that +covered his head as a roof does a house. "When I was +up at Torreon I killed an old lady who refused to sell +me some enchiladas. She was angry, I can tell you; I +got no enchiladas but I felt satisfied anyhow!" + +"I killed a storekeeper at Parral because he gave me +some change and there were two Huerta bills in it," said +a man with a star on his hat and precious stones on his +black, calloused hands. + +"Down in Chihuahua I killed a man because I always +saw him sitting at the table whenever I went to eat. I +hated the looks of him so I just killed him! What the hell +could I do!" +"Hmm! I killed. . . ." +The theme is inexhaustible. + +By dawn, when the restaurant was wild with joy and +the floor dotted with spittle, young painted girls from the +suburbs had mingled freely among the dark northern +women. Demetrio pulled out his jeweled gold watch, ask- +ing Anastasio Montanez to tell him the time. + +Anastasio glanced at the watch, then, poking his head +out of a small window, gazed at the starry sky. + +"The Pleiades are pretty low in the west. I guess it +won't be long now before daybreak. . . ." + +Outside the restaurant, the shouts, laughter and song +of the drunkards rang through the air. Men galloped wild- +ly down the streets, the hoofs of their horses hammering +on the sidewalks. From every quarter of the town pis- +tols spoke, guns belched. Demetrio and the girl called +War Paint staggered tipsily hand in hand down the center +of the street, bound for the hotel. + + + + +II + + +"What damned fools," said War Paint convulsed with +laughter! "Where the hell do you come from?..... Soldiers +don't sleep in hotels and inns any more....... Where do +you come from? You just go anywhere you like and +pick a house that pleases you, see. When you go there, +make yourself at home and don't ask anyone for any- +thing. What the hell is the use of the revolution? Who's +it for? For the folks who live in towns? We're the city +folk now, see? Come on, Pancracio, hand me your bayo- +net. Damn these rich people, they lock up everything +they've got!" + +She dug the steel point through the crack of a drawer +and, pressing on the hilt, broke the lock, opened the +splinted cover of a writing desk. Anastasio, Pancracio +and War Paint plunged their hands into a mass of post +cards, photographs, pictures and papers, scattering them +all over the rug. Finding nothing he wanted, Pancracio +gave vent to his anger by kicking a framed photograph +into the air with the toe of his shoe. It smashed on the +candelabra in the center of the room. + +They pulled their empty hands out of the heap of paper, +cursing. But War Paint was of sterner stuff; tirelessly she +continued to unlock drawer after drawer without failing +to investigate a single spot. In their absorption, they did +not notice a small gray velvet-covered box which rolled +silently across the floor, coming to a stop at Luis Cer- +vantes' feet. + +Demetrio, lying on the rug, seemed to be asleep; Cer- +vantes, who had watched everything with profound in- +difference, pulled the box closer to him with his foot, and +stooping to scratch his ankle, swiftly picked it up. Some- +thing gleamed up at him, dazzling. It was two pure-water +diamonds mounted in filigreed platinum. Hastily he thrust +them inside his coat pocket. +When Demetrio awoke, Cervantes said: + +"General, look at the mess these boys have made +here. Don't you think it would be advisable to forbid this +sort of thing?" + +"No. It's about their only pleasure after putting their +bellies up as targets for the enemy's bullets." + +"Yes, of course, General, but they could do it some- +where else. You see, this sort of thing hurts our prestige, +and worse, our cause!" + +Demetrio leveled his eagle eyes at Cervantes. He +drummed with his fingernails against his teeth, absent- +mindedly. Then: + +"Come along, now, don't blush," he said. "You can +talk like that to someone else. We know what's mine is +mine, what's yours is yours. You picked the box, all +right; I picked my gold watch; all right too!" + +His words dispelled any pretense. Both of them, in +perfect harmony, displayed their booty. + +War Paint and her companions were ransacking the +rest of the house. Quail entered the room with a twelve- +year-old girl upon whose forehead and arms were al- +ready marked copper-colored spots. They stopped short, +speechless with surprise as they saw the books lying in +piles on the floor, chairs and tables, the large mirrors +thrown to the ground, smashed, the huge albums and +the photographs torn into shreds, the furniture, objets +d'art and bric-a-brac broken. Quail held his breath, his +avid eyes scouring the room for booty. + +Outside, in one corner of the patio, lost in dense clouds +of suffocating smoke, Manteca was boiling corn on the +cob, feeding his fire with books and paper that made +the flames leap wildly through the air. + +"Hey!" Quail shouted. "Look what I found. A fine +sweat-cover for my mare." + +With a swift pull he wrenched down a hanging, which +fell over a handsomely carved upright chair. + +"Look, look at all these naked women!" Quail's little +companion cried, enchanted at a de luxe edition of +Dante's Divine Comedy. "I like this; I think I'll take it +along." + +She began to tear out the illustrations which pleased +her most. + +Demetrio crossed the room and sat down beside Luis +Cervantes. He ordered some beer, handed one bottle up +to his secretary, downed his own bottle at one gulp. +Then, drowsily, he half closed his eyes, and soon fell +sound asleep. + +"Hey!" a man called to Pancracio from the threshold. +"When can I see your general?" + +"You can't see him. He's got a hangover this morn- +ing. What the hell do you want?" +"I want to buy some of those books you're burning." +"I'll sell them to you myself." +"How much do you want for them?" +Pancracio frowned in bewilderment. + + "Give me a nickel for those with pictures, see. I'll +give you the rest for nothing if you buy all those with pictures." + +The man returned with a large basket to carry away +the books. . . . + +"Come on, Demetrio, come on, you pig, get up! Look +who's here! It's Blondie. You don't know what a fine +man he is!" + +"I like you very much, General Macias, and I like +the way you do things. So if it's all right, I'd like very +much to serve under you!" + +"What's your rank?" Demetrio asked him. + +"I'm a captain, General." + +"All right, you can serve with me now. I'll make you +major. How's that?" + +Blondie was a round little fellow, with waxed mus- +tache. When he laughed, his blue eyes disappeared mis- +chievously between his forehead and his fat cheeks. He +had been a waiter at "El Monico," in Chihuahua; now +he proudly wore three small brass bars, the insignia of +his rank in the Northern Division. + +Blondie showered eulogy after eulogy on Demetrio and +his men; this proved sufficient reason for bringing out a +fresh case of beer, which was finished in short order. + +Suddenly War Paint reappeared in the middle of the +room, wearing a beautiful silk dress covered with ex- +quisite lace. + +"You forgot the stockings," Blondie shouted, shaking +with laughter. Quail's girl also burst out laughing. But +War Paint did not care. She shrugged her shoulders in- +differently, sat down on the floor, kicked off her white +satin slippers, and wiggled her toes happily, giving their +muscles a freedom welcome after their tight confinement +in the slippers. She said: + +"Hey, you, Pancracio, go and get me my blue stock- +ings . . . they're with the rest of my plunder." + +Soldiers and their friends, companions and veterans of +other campaigns, began to enter in groups of twos and +threes. Demetrio, growing excited, began to narrate in +detail his most notable feats of arms. + +"What the hell is that noise?" he asked in surprise as +he heard string and brass instruments tuning up in the +patio. + +"General Demetrio Macias," Luis Cervantes said +solemnly, "it's a banquet all of your old friends and fol- +lowers are giving in your honor to celebrate your vic- +tory at Zacatecas and your well-merited promotion to the +rank of general!" + + + +III + + +"General Macias, I want you to meet my future wife," +Luis Cervantes said with great emphasis as he +led a beautiful girl into the dining room. + +They all turned to look at her. Her large blue eyes +grew wide in wonder. She was barely fourteen. Her skin +was like a rose, soft, pink, fresh; her hair was very fair; +the expression in her eyes was partly impish curiosity, +partly a vague childish fear. Perceiving that Demetrio +eyed her like a beast of prey, Luis Cervantes congratu- +lated himself. + +They made room for her between Luis Cervantes and +Blondie, opposite Demetrio. + +Bottles of tequila, dishes of cut glass, bowls, porcelains +and vases lay scattered over the table indiscriminately. +Meco, carrying a box of beer upon his shoulders, came in +cursing and sweating. + +"You don't know this fellow Blondie yet," said War +Paint, noticing the persistent glances he was casting at +Luis Cervantes' bride. "He's a smart fellow, I can tell +you, and he never misses a trick." +She gazed at him lecherously, adding: + +"That's why I don't like to see him close, even on a +photograph!" + +The orchestra struck up a raucous march as though +they were playing at a bullfight. The soldiers roared with +joy. + +"What fine tripe, General; I swear I haven't tasted the +like of it in all my life," Blondie said, as he began to +reminisce about "El Monico" at Chihuahua. + +"You really like it, Blondie?" responded Demetrio. +"Go ahead, call for more, eat your bellyful." + +"It's just the way I like it," Anastasio chimed in. "Yes, +I like good food! But nothing really tastes good to you +unless you belch!" + +The noise of mouths being filled, of ravenous feeding +followed. All drank copiously. At the end of the dinner, +Luis Cervantes rose, holding a champagne glass in one +hand, and said: + +"General. . ." + +"Ho!" War Paint interrupted. "This speech-making busi- +ness isn't for me; I'm all against it. I'll go out to the +corral since there's no more eating here." + +Presenting Demetrio with a black velvet-covered box +containing a small brass eagle, Luis Cervantes made a +toast which no one understood but everyone applauded +enthusiastically. Demetrio took the insignia in his hands; +and with flushed face, and eyes shining, declared with +great candor: +"What in hell am I going to do with this buzzard!" + +"Compadre," Anastasio Montanez said in a tremu- +lous voice. "I ain't got much to tell you. . . ." + +Whole minutes elapsed between his words; the cursed +words would not come to Anastasio. His face, coated +with filth, unwashed for days, turned crimson, shining +with perspiration. Finally he decided to finish his toast +at all costs. "Well, I ain't got much to tell you, except +that we are pals. . . ." + +Then, since everyone had applauded at the end of Luis +Cervantes' speech, Anastasio having finished, made a +sign, and the company clapped their hands in great gravi- +ty. + +But everything turned out for the best, since his awk- +wardness inspired others. Manteca and Quail stood up +and made their toasts, too. When Meco's turn came, War +Paint rushed in shouting jubilantly, attempting to drag a +splendid black horse into the dining room. + +"My booty! My booty!" she cried, patting the superb +animal on the neck. It resisted every effort she made until +a strong jerk of the rope and a sudden lash brought it in +prancing smartly. The soldiers, half drunk, stared at the +beast with ill-disguised envy. + +"I don't know what the hell this she-devil's got, but +she always beats everybody to it," cried Blondie. "She's +been the same ever since she joined us at Tierra Blanca!" + +"Hey, Pancracio, bring me some alfalfa for my horse," +War Paint commanded crisply, throwing the horse's rope +to one of the soldiers. + +Once more they filled their glasses. Many a head hung +low with fatigue or drunkenness. Most of the company, +however, shouted with glee, including Luis Cervantes' +girl. She had spilled all her wine on a handkerchief and +looked all about her with blue wondering eyes. + +"Boys," Blondie suddenly screamed, his shrill, guttural +voice dominating the mall, "I'm tired of living; I feel like +killing myself right now. I'm sick and tired of War Paint +and this other little angel from heaven won't even look at +me!" + +Luis Cervantes saw that the last remark was addressed +to his bride; with great surprise he realized that it was +not Demetrio's foot he had noticed close to the girl's, +but Blondie's. He was boiling with indignation. + +"Keep your eye on me, boys," Blondie went on, gun +in hand. "I'm going to shoot myself right in the fore- +head!" + +He aimed at the large mirror on the opposite wall +which gave back his whole body in reflection. He took +careful aim. . . . + +"Don't move, War Paint." + +The bullet whizzed by, grazing War Paint's hair. The +mirror broke into large jagged fragments. She did not +even so much as blink. + + + + +IV + + +Late in the afternoon Luis Cervantes rubbed his eyes +and sat up. He had been sleeping on the hard pavement, +close to the trunk of a fruit tree. Anastasio, Pancracio +and Quail slept nearby, breathing heavily. + +His lips were swollen, his nose dry and cold. There were +bloodstains on his hands and shirt. At once he recalled +what had taken place. Soon he rose to his feet and made +for one of the bedrooms. He pushed at the door several +times without being able to force it open. For a few min- +utes he stood there, hesitating. + +No--he had not dreamed it. Everything had really oc- +curred just as he recalled it. He had left the table with +his bride and taken her to the bedroom, but just as he +was closing the door, Demetrio staggered after them +and made one leap toward them. Then War Paint dashed +in after Demetrio and began to struggle with him. Deme- +trio, his eyes white-hot, his lips covered with long blond +hairs, looked for the bride, in despair. But War Paint +pushed him back vigorously. + +"What the hell is the matter with you? What the hell +are you trying to do?" he demanded, furious. + +War Paint put her leg between his, twisted it suddenly, +and Demetrio fell to the ground outside of the bedroom. +He rose, raging. + +"Help! Help! He's going to kill me!" she cried, seizing +Demetrio's wrist and turning the gun aside. The bullet +hit the floor. War Paint continued to shriek. Anastasio dis- +armed Demetrio from behind. + +Demetrio, standing like a furious bull in the middle of +the arena, cast fierce glances at all the bystanders, Luis +Cervantes, Anastasio, Manteca, and the others. + +"Goddamn you! You've taken my gun away! Christ! +As if I needed any gun to beat the hell out of you." + +Flinging out his arms, beating and pummeling, he felled +everyone within reach. Down they rolled like tenpins. +Then, after that, Luis Cervantes could remember nothing +more. Perhaps his bride, terrified by all these brutes, had +wisely vanished and hidden herself. + +"Perhaps this bedroom communicates with the living +room and I can go in through there," he thought, stand- +ing at the threshold. At the sound of his footsteps, War +Paint woke up. She lay on the rug close to Demetrio at +the foot of a couch filled with alfalfa and corn where the +black horse had fed. + +"What are you looking for? Oh, hell, I know what you +want! Shame on you! Why, I had to lock up your sweet- +heart because I couldn't struggle any more against this +damned Demetrio. Take the key, it's lying on that table, +there!" +Luis Cervantes searched in vain all over the house. +"Come on, tell me all about your girl." +Nervously, Luis Cervantes continued to look for the key. + +"Come on, don't be in such a hurry, I'll give it to you. +Come along, tell me; I like to hear about these things, +you know. That girl is your kind, she's not a country per- +son like us." + +"I've nothing to say. She's my girl and we're going to +get married, that's all." + +"Ho! Ho! Ho! You're going to marry her, eh? Trying +to teach your grandmother to suck eggs, eh? Why, you +fool, any place you just manage to get to for the first +time in your life, I've left a hundred miles behind me, see. +I've cut my wisdom teeth. It was Meco and Manteca who +took the girl from her home: I knew that all the time. +You just gave them something so as to have her your- +self, gave them a pair of cuff links . . . or a miraculous +picture of some Virgin. . . . Am I right? Sure, I am! +There aren't so many people in the world who know +what's what, but I reckon you'll meet up with a few be- +fore you die!" + +War Paint got up to give him the key but she could +not find it either. She was much surprised. Quickly, she +ran to the bedroom door and peered through the key- +hole, standing motionless until her eye grew accustomed +to the darkness within. Without drawing away, she said: + "You damned Blondie. Son of a bitch! Come here a +minute, look!" + She went away laughing. +"Didn't I tell them all I'd never seen a smarter fellow +in all my life!" + +The following morning, War Paint watched for the mo- +ment when Blondie left the bedroom to feed his +horses. . . . +"Come on, Angel Face. Run home quick!" + +The blue-eyed girl, with a face like a Madonna, stood +naked save for her chemise and stockings. War Paint +covered her with Manteca's lousy blanket, took her by the +hand and led her to the street. + +"God, I'm happy," War Paint cried. "I'm crazy . . . +about Blondie . . . now." + + + + +V + + +Like neighing colts, playful when the rainy season +begins, Demetrio's men galloped through the sierra. + +"To Moyahua, boys. Let's go to Demetrio Macias' +country!" + +"To the country of Monico the cacique!" + +The landscape grew clearer; the sun margined the +diaphanous sky with a fringe of crimson. Like the bony +shoulders of immense sleeping monsters, the chains of +mountains rose in the distance. Crags there were like +heads of colossal native idols; others like giants' faces, +their grimaces awe-inspiring or grotesque, calling forth +a smile or a shudder at a presentment of mystery. + +Demetrio Macias rode at the head of his men; be- +hind him the members of his staff: Colonel Anastasio +Montanez, Lieutenant-Colonel Pancracio, Majors Luis +Cervantes and Blondie. Still further behind came War +Paint with Venancio, who paid her many compliments +and recited the despairing verses of Antonio Plaza. As +the sun's rays began to slip from the housetops, they +made their entrance into Moyahua, four abreast, to the +sound of the bugle. The roosters' chorus was deafening, +dogs barked their alarm, but not a living soul stirred +on the streets. + +War Paint spurred her black horse and with one jump +was abreast with Demetrio. They rode forward, elbow +to elbow. She wore a silk dress and heavy gold earrings. +Proudly her pale blue gown deepened her olive skin and +the coppery spots on her face and arms. Riding astride, +she had pulled her skirts up to her knees; her stockings +showed, filthy and full of runs. She wore a gun at her +side, a cartridge belt hung over the pommel of her saddle. + +Demetrio was also dressed in his best clothes. His +broad-brimmed hat was richly embroidered; his leather +trousers were tight-fitting and adorned with silver but- +tons; his coat was embroidered with gold thread. + +There was a sound of doors being beaten down and +forced open. The soldiers had already scattered through +the town, to gather together ammunition and saddles +from everywhere. + +"We're going to bid Monico good morning," Deme- +trio said gravely, dismounting and tossing his bridle to +one of his men. "We're going to have breakfast with +Don Monico, who's a particular friend of mine . . . ." + +The general's staff smiled . . . a sinister, malign +smile. . . . + +Making their spurs ring against the pavement, they +walked toward a large pretentious house, obviously that +of a cacique. + +"It's closed airtight," Anastasio Montanez said, push- +ing the door with all his might. + +"That's all right. I'll open it," Pancracio answered, +lowering his rifle and pointing it at the lock. + +"No, no," Demetrio said, "knock first." + + +Three blows with the butt of the rifle. Three more. +No answer. Pancracio disobeys orders. He fires, smash- +ing the lock. The door opens. Behind, a confusion of +skirts and children's bare legs rushing to and fro, pell- +mell. + +"I want wine. Hey, there: wine!" Demetrio cries in an +imperious voice, pounding heavily on a table. + +"Sit down, boys." + +A lady peeps out, another, a third; from among black +skirts, the heads of frightened children. One of the +women, trembling, walks toward a cupboard and, taking +out some glasses and a bottle, serves wine. + +"What arms have you?" Demetrio demands harshly. + +"Arms, arms . . . ?" the lady answers, a taste of +ashes on her tongue. "What arms do you expect us to +have! We are respectable, lonely old ladies!" + +"Lonely, eh! Where's Senor Monico?" + +"Oh, he's not here, gentlemen, I assure you! We mere- +ly rent the house from him, you see. We only know +him by name!" + +Demetrio orders his men to search the house. + +"No, please don't. We'll bring you whatever we have +ourselves, but please for God's sake, don't do anything +cruel. We're spinsters, lone women . . . perfectly re- +spectable. . . ." + +"Spinsters, hell! What about these kids here?" Pan- +cracio interrupts brutally. "Did they spring from the +earth?" + +The women disappear hurriedly, to return with an old +shotgun, covered with dust and cobwebs, and a pistol +with rusty broken springs. + +Demetrio smiles. + +"All right, then, let's see the money." + +"Money? Money? But what money do you think a +couple of spinsters have? Spinsters alone in the +world. . . . ?" + +They glance up in supplication at the nearest soldier; +but they are seized with horror. For they have just seen +the Roman soldier who crucified Our Lord in the Via +Crucis of the parish! They have seen Pancracio! + +Demetrio repeats his order to search. + +Once again the women disappear to return this time +with a moth-eaten wallet containing a few Huerta bills. + +Demetrio smiles and without further delay calls to his +men to come in. Like hungry dogs who have sniffed their +meat, the mob bursts in, trampling down the women who +sought to bar the entrance with their bodies. Several +faint, fall to the ground; others flee in panic. The chil- +dren scream. + +Pancracio is about to break the lock of a huge ward- +robe when suddenly the doors open and out comes a +man with a rifle in his hands. + +"Senor Don Monico!" they all exclaim in surprise. + +"Demetrio, please, don't harm me! Please don't harm +me! Please don't hurt me! You know, Senor Don Deme- +trio, I'm your friend!" + +Demetrio Macias smiles slyly. "Are friends," he +asked, "usually welcomed gun in hand?" +Don Monico, in consternation, throws himself at +Demetrio's feet, clasps his knees, kisses his shoes: +"My wife! . . . My children! . . . Please, Senor Don +Demetrio, my friend!" + +Demetrio with taut hand puts his gun back in the +holster. + +A painful silhouette crosses his mind. He sees a +woman with a child in her arms walking over the rocks +of the sierra in the moonlight. A house in flames. . . . + +"Clear out. Everybody outside!" he orders darkly. + +His staff obeys. Monico and the ladies kiss his hands, +weeping with gratitude. The mob in the street, talking +and laughing, stands waiting for the general's permission +to ransack the cacique's house. + +"I know where they've buried their money but I won't +tell," says a youngster with a basket in his hands. + +"Hm! I know the right place, mind you," says an old +woman carrying a burlap sack to hold whatever the good +Lord will provide. "It's on top of something . . . there's +a lot of trinkets nearby and then there's a small bag +with mother-of-pearl around it. That's the thing to look +for!" + +"You ain't talking sense, woman," puts in a man. +"They ain't such fools as to leave silver lying loose like +that. I'm thinking they've got it buried in the well, in a +leather bag." + +The mob moves slowly; some carry ropes to tie about +their bundles, others wooden trays. The women open +out their aprons or shawls calculating their capacity. All +give thanks to Divine Providence as they wait for their +share of the booty. + +When Demetrio announces that he will not allow loot- +ing and orders them to disband, the mob, disconsolate, +obeys him, and soon scatters; but there is a dull rumor +among the soldiers and no one moves from his place. + + Annoyed, Demetrio repeats this order. + +A young man, a recent recruit, his head turned by +drink, laughs and walks boldly toward the door. But be- +fore he has reached the threshold, a shot lays him low. +He falls like a bull pierced in the neck by the matador's +sword. Motionless, his smoking gun in his hand, Deme- +trio waits for the soldiers to withdraw. + +"Set fire to the house!" he orders Luis Cervantes +when they reach their quarters. + +With a curious eagerness Luis Cervantes does not trans- +mit the order but undertakes the task in person. + +Two hours later when the city square was black with +smoke and enormous tongues of fire rose from Monico's +house, no one could account for the strange behavior of +the general. + + + +VI + + +They established themselves in a large gloomy house, +which likewise belonged to the cacique of Moyahua. The +previous occupants had already left strong evidences in +the patio, which had been converted into a manure pile. +The walls, once whitewashed, were now faded and +cracked, revealing the bare unbaked adobe; the floor had +been torn up by the hoofs of animals; the orchard was +littered with rotted branches and dead leaves. From +the entrance one stumbled over broken bits of chairs +and other furniture covered with dirt. + +By ten o'clock, Luis Cervantes yawned with boredom, +said good night to Blondie and War Paint, who were +downing endless drinks on a bench in the square, and +made for the barracks. The drawing room was alone fur- +nished. As he entered, Demetrio, lying on the floor with +his eyes wide open, trying to count the beams, gazed +at him. + +"It's you, eh? What's new? Come on, sit down." + +Luis Cervantes first went over to trim the candle, then +drew up a chair without a back, a coarse rag doing +the duty of a wicker bottom. The legs of the chair +squeaked. War Paint's black horse snorted and whirled +its crupper in wide circles. Luis Cervantes sank into his +seat. + +"General, I wish to make my report. Here you +have . . ." + +"Look here, man, I didn't really want this done, you +know. Moyahua is almost like my native town. They'll +say this is why we've been fighting!" Demetrio said, look- +ing at the bulging sack of silver Cervantes was passing +to him. Cervantes left his seat to squat down by Deme- +trio's side. + +He stretched a blanket over the floor and into it +poured the ten-peso pieces, shining, burning gold. + +"First of all, General, only you and I know about +this. . . . Secondly, you know well enough that if the +sun shines, you should open the window. It's shining in +our faces now but what about tomorrow? You should +always look ahead. A bullet, a bolting horse, even a +wretched cold in the head, and then there are a widow +and orphans left in absolute want! . . . The Govern- +ment? Ha! Ha! . . . Just go see Carranza or Villa or +any of the big chiefs and try and tell them about your +family. . . . If they answer with a kick you know where, +they'll say they're giving you a handful of jewels. And +they're right; we did not rise up in arms to make some +Carranza or Villa President of our Republic. No--we +fought to defend the sacred rights of the people against +the tyranny of some vile cacique. And so, just as Villa +or Carranza aren't going to ask our consent to the pay- +ment they're getting for the services they're rendering +the country, we for our part don't have to ask anybody's +permission about anything either." + +Demetrio half stood up, grasped a bottle that stood +nearby, drained it, then spat out the liquor, swelling out +his cheeks. + +"By God, my boy, you've certainly got the gift of +gab!" + +Luis felt dizzy, faint. The spattered beer seemed to +intensify the stench of the refuse on which they sat; a +carpet of orange and banana peels, fleshlike slices of +watermelon, moldy masses of mangoes and sugarcane, all +mixed up with cornhusks from tamales and human offal. + +Demetrio's calloused hands shuffled through the bril- +liant coins, counting and counting. Recovering from his +nausea, Luis Cervantes pulled out a small box of Fallieres +phosphate and poured forth rings, brooches, pendants, +and countless valuable jewels. + +"Look here, General, if this mess doesn't blow over +(and it doesn't look as though it would), if the revolu- +tion keeps on, there's enough here already for us to live +on abroad quite comfortably." + + Demetrio shook his bead. + + "You wouldn't do that!" + +"Why not? What are we staying on for? . . . What +cause are we defending now?" + +"That's something I can't explain, Tenderfoot. But I'm +thinking it wouldn't show much guts." + +"Take your choice, General," said Luis Cervantes, +pointing to the jewels which he had set in a row. + +"Oh, you keep it all. . . . Certainly! . . . You know, I +don't really care for money at all. I'll tell you the truth! +I'm the happiest man in the world, so long as there's +always something to drink and a nice little wench that +catches my eye. . . ." + +"Ha! Ha! You make the funniest jokes, General. Why +do you stand for that snake of a War Paint, then?" + +"I'll tell you, Tenderfoot, I'm fed up with her. But +I'm like that: I just can't tell her so. I'm not brave +enough to tell her to go plumb to hell. That's the way +I am, see? When I like a woman, I get plain silly; and +if she doesn't start something, I've not got the courage +to do anything myself." He sighed. "There's Camilla at +the ranch for instance. . . . Now, she's not much on +looks, I know, but there's a woman I'd like to +have......." + +"Well, General, we'll go and get her any day you +like." + +Demetrio winked maliciously. + +"I promise you I'll do it." + +"Are you sure? Do you really mean it? Look here, if +you pull that off for me, I'll give you the watch and +chain you're hankering after." + +Luis Cervantes' eyes shone. He took the phosphate box, +heavy with its contents, and stood up smiling. + +"I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "Good night, Gen- +eral! Sleep well." + + + +VII + + + +"I don't know any more about it than you do. The +General told me, 'Quail, saddle your horse and my black +mare and follow Cervantes; he's going on an errand for +me.' Well, that's what happened. We left here at noon, +and reached the ranch early that evening. One-eyed +Maria Antonia took us in. . . . She asked after you, +Pancracio. Next morning Luis Cervantes wakes me up. +'Quail, Quail, saddle the horses. Leave me mine but take +the General's mare back to Moyahua. I'll catch up after +a bit.' The sun was high when he arrived with Camilla. +She got off and we stuck her on the General's mare." + +"Well, and her? What sort of a face did she make +coming back?" one of the men inquired. + +"Hum! She was so damned happy she was gabbing +all the way." + +"And the tenderfoot?" + + "Just as quiet as he always is, you know him." + +"I think," Venancio expressed his opinion with great +seriousness, "that if Camilla woke up in the General's +bed, it was just a mistake. We drank a lot, remember! +That alcohol went to our heads; we must have lost our +senses." + +"What the hell do you mean: alcohol! It was all +cooked up between Cervantes and the General." + + "Certainly! That city dude's nothing but a . . ." + +"I don't like to talk about friends behind their backs," +said Blondie, "but I can tell you this: one of the two +sweethearts he had, one was mine, and the other was +for the General." + +They burst into guffaws of laughter. + +When War Paint realized what had happened, she +sought out Camilla and spoke with great affection: + +"Poor little child! Tell me how all this happened." + +Camilla's eyes were red from weeping. + +"He lied to me! He lied! He came to the ranch and +he told me, 'Camilla, I came just to get you. Do you +want to go away with me?' You can be sure I wanted +to go with him; when it comes to loving, I adore him. +Yes, I adore him. Look how thin I've grown just pin- +ing away for him. Mornings I used to loathe to grind +corn, Mamma would call me to eat, and anything I +put in my mouth had no taste at all." + +Once more she burst into tears, stuffing the corner +of her apron into her mouth to drown her sobs. + +"Look here, I'll help you out of this mess. Don't be +silly, child, don't cry. Don't think about the dude any +more! Honest to God, he's not worth it. You surely +know his game, dear? . . . That's the only reason why +the General stands for him. What a goose! . . . All +right, you want to go back home?" + +"The Holy Virgin protect me. My mother would beat +me to death!" + +"She'll do nothing of the sort. You and I can fix things. +Listen! The soldiers are leaving any moment now. When +Demetrio tells you to get ready, you tell him you feel +pains all over your body as though someone had hit +you; then you lie down and start yawning and shivering. +Then put your hand on your forehead and say, 'I'm +burning up with fever.' I'll tell Demetrio to leave us +both here, that I'll stay to take care of you, that as +soon as you're feeling all right again, we'll catch up with +them. But instead of that, I'll see that you get home +safe and sound." + + + +VIII + + +The sun had set, the town was lost in the drab mel- +ancholy of its ancient streets amid the frightened silence +of its inhabitants, who had retired very early, when Luis +Cervantes reached Primitivo's general store, his arrival +interrupting a party that promised great doings. + +Demetrio was engaged in getting drunk with his old +comrades. The entire space before the bar was occupied. +War Paint and Blondie had tied up their horses outside; +but the other officers had stormed in brutally, horses +and all. Embroidered hats with enormous and concave +brims bobbed up and down everywhere. The horses +wheeled about, prancing; tossing their restive heads; their +fine breed showing in their black eyes, their small ears +and dilating nostrils. Over the infernal din of the drunk- +ards, the heavy breathing of the horses, the stamp of +their hoofs on the tiled floor, and occasionally a quick, +nervous whinny rang out. + +A trivial episode was being commented upon when +Luis Cervantes came in. A man, dressed in civilian +clothes, with a round, black, bloody hole in his fore- +head, lay stretched out in the middle of the street, his +mouth gaping. Opinion was at first divided but finally +all concurred with Blondie's sound reasoning. The poor +dead devil lying out there was the church sexton. . . . +But what an idiot! His own fault, of course! Who in +the name of hell could be so foolish as to dress like a +city dude, with trousers, coat, cap, and all? Pancracio +simply could not bear the sight of a city man in front +of him! And that was that! + +Eight musicians, playing wind instruments, interrupted +their labors at Cervantes' command. Their faces were +round and red as suns, their eyes popping, for they had +been blowing on their brass instruments since dawn. + +"General," Luis said pushing his way through the men +on horseback, "a messenger has arrived with orders to +proceed immediately to the pursuit and capture of +Orozco and his men." + +Faces that had been dark and gloomy were now il- +lumined with joy. + +"To Jalisco, boys!" cried Blondie, pounding on the +counter. + +"Make ready, all you darling Jalisco girls of my heart, +for I'm coming along too!" Quail shouted, twisting back +the brim of his hat. + +The enthusiasm and rejoicing were general. Demetrio's +friends, in the excitement of drunkenness, offered their +services. Demetrio was so happy that he could scarcely +speak. They were going to fight Orozco and his men! +At last, they would pit themselves against real men! At +last they would stop shooting down the Federals like so +many rabbits or wild turkeys. + +"If I could get hold of Orozco alive," Blondie said, +"I'd rip off the soles of his feet and make him walk +twenty-four hours over the sierra!" + +"Was that the guy who killed Madero?" asked Meco. + +"No," Blondie replied solemnly, "but once when I was +a waiter at 'El Monico,' up in Chihuahua, he hit me +in the face!" + +"Give Camilla the roan mare," Demetrio ordered Pan- +cracio, who was already saddling the horses. + +"Camilla can't go!" said War Paint promptly. + +"Who in hell asked for your opinion?" Demetrio re- +torted angrily. + +"It's true, isn't it, Camilla? You were sore all over, +weren't you? And you've got a fever right now?" + +"Well--anything Demetrio says." + +"Don't be a fool! say 'No,' come on, say 'No,"' War +Paint whispered nervously into Camilla's ear. + +"I'll tell you, War Paint. . . . It's funny, but I'm be- +ginning to fall for him. . . . Would you believe it!" Ca- +milla whispered back. + +War Paint turned purple, her cheeks swelled. Without +a word she went out to get her horse that Blondie was +saddling. + + + +IX + + +A whirlwind of dust, scorching down the road, sud- +denly broke into violent diffuse masses; and Demetrio's +army emerged, a chaos of horses, broad chests, tangled +manes, dilated nostrils, oval, wide eyes, hoofs flying in the +air, legs stiffened from endless galloping; and of men +with bronze faces, ivory teeth, and flashing eyes, their +rifles in their hands or slung across the saddles. + +Demetrio and Camilla brought up the rear. She was +still nervous, white-lipped and parched; he was angry +at their futile maneuver. For there had been battles, no +followers of Orozco's to be seen. A handful of Federals, +routed. A poor devil of a priest left dangling from a +mesquite; a few dead, scattered over the field, who had +once been united under the archaic slogan, RIGHTS AND +RELIGION, with, on their breasts, the red cloth insignia: +Halt! The Sacred Heart of Jesus is with me! + +"One good thing about it is that I've collected all +my back pay," Quail said, exhibiting some gold watches +and rings stolen from the priest's house. + +"It's fun fighting this way," Manteca cried, spicing +every other word with an oath. "You know why the hell +you're risking your hide." + +In the same hand with which he held the reins, he +clutched a shining ornament that he had torn from one +of the holy statues. + +After Quail, an expert in such matters, had examined +Manteca's treasure covetously, he uttered a solemn +guffaw. + +"Hell, Your ornament is nothing but tin!" + +"Why in hell are you hanging on to that poison?" +Pancracio asked Blondie who appeared dragging a pris- +oner. + +"Do you want to know why? Because it's a long time +since I've had a good look at a man's face when a rope +tightens around his neck!" + +The fat prisoner breathed with difficulty as he fol- +lowed Blondie on foot; his face was sunburnt, his eyes +red; his forehead beaded with sweat, his wrists tightly +bound together. + +"Here, Anastasio, lend me your lasso. Mine's not +strong enough; this bird will bust it. No, by God, I've +changed my mind, friend Federal: think I'll kill you on +the spot, because you are pulling too hard. Look, all the +mesquites are still a long way off and there are no tele- +graph poles to hang you to!" + +Blondie pulled his gun out, pressed the muzzle against +the prisoner's chest and brought his finger against the +trigger slowly . . . slowly. . . . The prisoner turned pale +as a corpse; his face lengthened; his eyelids were fixed +in a glassy stare. He breathed in agony, his whole body +shook as with ague. Blondie kept his gun in the same +position for a moment long as all eternity. His eyes +shone queerly. An expression of supreme pleasure lit up +his fat puffy face. + +"No, friend Federal," he drawled, putting back his +gun into the holster; "I'm not going to kill you just yet. +. . . I'll make you my orderly. You'll see that I'm not so +hardhearted!" + +Slyly he winked at his companions. The prisoner had +turned into an animal; he gulped, panting, dry-mouthed. +Camilla, who had witnessed the scene, spurred her horse +and caught up with Demetrio. + +"What a brute that Blondie is: you ought to see what +he did to a wretched prisoner," she said. Then she told +Demetrio what had occurred. The latter wrinkled his +brow but made no answer. + + War Paint called Camilla aside. + +"Hey you . . . what are you gobbling about? Blondie's +my man, understand? From now on, you know how +things are: whatever you've got against him you've got +against me too! I'm warning you." + +Camilla, frightened, hurried back to Demetrio's side. + + + +X + + +The men camped in a meadow, near three small +lone houses standing in a row, their white walls cutting +the purple fringe of the horizon. Demetrio and Camilla +rode toward them. Inside the corral a man, clad in shirt +and trousers of cheap white cloth, sat greedily puffing at +a cornhusk cigarette. Another man sitting beside him +on a flat cut stone was shelling corn. Kicking the air +with one dry, withered leg, the extremity of which was +like a goat's hoof, he frightened the chickens away. + +"Hurry up, 'Pifanio," said the man who was smoking, +"the sun has gone down already and you haven't taken +the animals to water." + + +A horse neighed outside the corral; both men glanced +up in amazement. Demetrio and Camilla were looking +over the corral wall at them. + +"I just want a place to sleep for my woman and me," +Demetrio said reassuringly. + +As he explained that he was the chief of a small +army which was to camp nearby that night, the man +smoking, who owned the place, bid them enter with great +deference. He ran to fetch a broom and a pail of water +to dust and wash the best corner of the hut as decent +lodging for his distinguished guests. + +"Here, 'Pifanio, go out there and unsaddle the horses." + +The man who was shelling corn stood up with an +effort. He was clad in a tattered shirt and vest. His +torn trousers, split at the seam, looked like the wings of +a cold, stricken bird; two strings of cloth dangled from +his waist. As he walked, he described grotesque circles. + +"Surely you're not fit to do any work!" Demetrio said, +refusing to allow him to touch the saddles. + +"Poor man," the owner cried from within the hut, +"he's lost all his strength. . . . But he surely works for +his pay. . . . He starts working the minute God Almighty +himself gets up, and it's after sundown now but he's +working still!" + +Demetrio went out with Camilla for a stroll about +the encampment. The meadow, golden, furrowed, stripped +even of the smallest bushes, extended limitless in its im- +mense desolation. The three tall ash trees which stood +in front of the small house, with dark green crests, round +and waving, with rich foliage and branches drooping to +the very ground, seemed a veritable miracle. + +"I don't know why but I feel there's a lot of sadness +around here," said Demetrio. + + "Yes," Camilla answered, "I feel that way too." + +On the bank of a small stream, 'Pifanio was strenu- +ously tugging at a rope with a large can tied to the end +of it. He poured a stream of water over a heap of fresh, +cool grass; in the twilight, the water glimmered like crys- +tal. A thin cow, a scrawny nag, and a burro drank noisily +together. + +Demetrio recognized the limping servant and asked +him: "How much do you get a day?" + + "Eight cents a day, boss." + +He was an insignificant, scrofulous wraith of a man +with green eyes and straight, fair hair. He whined com- +plaint of his boss, the ranch, his bad luck, his dog's life. + +"You certainly earn your pay all right, my lad," De- +metrio interrupted kindly. "You complain and complain, +but you aren't no loafer, you work and work." Then, +aside to Camilla: "There's always more damned fools in +the valley than among us folk in the sierra, don't you +think?" + + "Of course!" she replied. + +They went on. The valley was lost in darkness; stars +came out. Demetrio put his arm around Camilla's waist +amorously and whispered in her ear. + +"Yes," she answered in a faint voice. + +She was indeed beginning to "fall for him" as she had +expressed it. + +Demetrio slept badly. He flung out of the house very +early. + +"Something is going to happen to me," he thought. + +It was a silent dawn, with faint murmurs of joy. A +thrush sang timidly in one of the ash trees. The animals +in the corral trampled on the refuse. The pig grunted its +somnolence. The orange tints of the sun streaked the +sky; the last star flickered out. + + Demetrio walked slowly to the encampment. + +He was thinking of his plow, his two black oxen-- +young beasts they were, who had worked in the fields +only two years--of his two acres of well-fertilized corn. +The face of his young wife came to his mind, clear and +true as life: he saw her strong, soft features, so gracious +when she smiled on her husband, so proudly fierce to- +ward strangers. But when he tried to conjure up the +image of his son, his efforts were vain; he had for- +gotten. . . . + +He reached the camp. Lying among the farrows, the +soldiers slept with the horses, heads bowed, eyes closed. + +"Our horses are pretty tired, Anastasio. I think we +ought to stay here at least another day." + +"Well, Compadre Demetrio, I'm hankering for the +sierra. . . . If you only knew. . . . You may not believe +me but nothing strikes me right here. I don't know what +I miss but I know I miss something. I feel sad . . . +lost. . . ." + +"How many hours' ride from here to Limon?" + +"It's no matter of hours; it's three days' hard riding, +Demetrio." + +"You know," Demetrio said softly, "I feel as though +I'd like to see my wife again!" + + Shortly after, War Paint sought out Camilla. + +"That's one on you, my dear. . . . Demetrio's going to +leave you flat! He told me so himself; 'I'm going to get +my real woman,' he says, and he says, 'Her skin is white +and tender . . . and her rosy cheeks. . . . How beautiful +she is!' But you don't have to leave him, you know; if +you're set on staying, well--they've got a child, you know, +and I suppose you could drag it around. . . ." + +When Demetrio returned, Camilla, weeping, told him +everything. + +"Don't pay no attention to that crazy baggage. It's all +lies, lies!" + +Since Demetrio did not go to Limon or remember his +wife again, Camilla grew very happy. War Paint had +merely stung herself, like a scorpion. + + + +XI + + +Before dawn, they left for Tepatitlan. Their sil- +houettes wavered indistinctly over the road and the fields +that bordered it, rising and falling with the monotonous, +rhythmical gait of their horses, then faded away in the +nacreous light of the swooning moon that bathed the +valley. +Dogs barked in the distance. + +"By noon we'll reach Tepatitlan, Cuquio tomorrow, +and then . . . on to the sierra!" Demetrio said. + +"Don't you think it advisable to go to Aguascalientes +first, General?" Luis Cervantes asked. + +"What for?" + +"Our funds are melting slowly." + +"Nonsense . . . forty thousand pesos in eight days!" + +"Well, you see, just this week we recruited over five +hundred new men; all the money's gone in advance loans +and gratuities," Luis Cervantes answered in a low voice. + +"No! We'll go straight to the sierra. We'll see later +on." + +"Yes, to the sierra!" many of the men shouted. + +"To the sierra! To the sierra! Hurrah for the moun- +tains!" + +The plains seemed to torture them; they spoke with +enthusiasm, almost with delirium, of the sierra. They +thought of the mountains as of a most desirable mistress +long since unvisited. + +Dawn broke behind a cloud of fine reddish dust; the +sun rose an immense curtain of fiery purple. Luis Cer- +vantes pulled his reins and waited for Quail. +"What's the last word on our deal, Quail?" + +"I told you, Tenderfoot: two hundred for the watch +alone." + +"No! I'll buy the lot: watches, rings, everything else. +How much?" + +Quail hesitated, turned slightly pale; then he cried +spiritedly: + + "Two thousand in bills, for the whole business!" + +Luis Cervantes gave himself away. His eyes shone +with such an obvious greed that Quail recanted and +said: + +"Oh, I was just fooling you. I won't sell nothing! Just +the watch, see? And that's only because I owe Pancracio +two hundred. He beat me at cards last night!" + +Luis Cervantes pulled out four crisp "double-face" bills +of Villa's issue and placed them in Quail's hands. + +"I'd like to buy the lot. . . . Besides, nobody will offer +you more than that!" + + +As the sun began to beat down upon them, Manteca +suddenly shouted: + +"Ho, Blondie, your orderly says he doesn't care to go +on living. He says he's too damned tired to walk." + +The prisoner had fallen in the middle of the road, ut- +terly exhausted. + +"Well, well!" Blondie shouted, retracing his steps. "So +little mama's boy is tired, eh? Poor little fellow. I'll buy +a glass case and keep you in a corner of my house just +as if you were the Virgin Mary's own little son. You've +got to reach home first, see? So I'll help you a little, +sonny!" + +He drew his sword out and struck the prisoner several +times. + +"Let's have a look at your rope, Pancracio," he said. +There was a strange gleam in his eyes. Quail observed +that the prisoner no longer moved arm or leg. Blondie +burst into a loud guffaw: "The Goddamned fool. Just as +I was learning him to do without food, too!" + +"Well, mate, we're almost to Guadalajara," Venancio +said, glancing over the smiling row of houses in Tepatit- +lan nestling against the hillside. + +They entered joyously. From every window rosy +cheeks, dark luminous eyes observed them. The schools +were quickly converted into barracks; Demetrio found +lodging in the chapel of an abandoned church. + +The soldiers scattered about as usual pretending to +seek arms and horses, but in reality for the sole purpose +of looting. + +In the afternoon some of Demetrio's men lay stretched +out on the church steps, scratching their bellies. Venan- +cio, his chest and shoulders bare, was gravely occupied +in killing the fleas in his shirt. A man drew near the wall +and sought permission to speak to the commander. The +soldiers raised their heads; but no one answered. + +"I'm a widower, gentlemen. I've got nine children and +I barely make a living with the sweat of my brow. Don't +be hard on a poor widower!" + +"Don't you worry about women, Uncle," said Meco, +who was rubbing his feet with tallow, "we've got War +Paint here with us; you can have her for nothing." + + The man smiled bitterly. + +"She's only got one fault," Pancracio observed, +stretched out on the ground, staring at the blue sky, +"she goes mad over any man she sees." + +They laughed loudly; but Venancio with utmost gravity +pointed to the chapel door. The stranger entered timidly +and confided his troubles to Demetrio. The soldiers had +cleaned him out; they had not left a single grain of corn. + +"Why did you let them?" Demetrio asked indolently. + +The man persisted, lamenting and weeping. Luis Cer- +vantes was about to throw him out with an insult. But +Camilla intervened. + +"Come on, Demetrio, don't be harsh, give him an order +to get his corn back." + +Luis Cervantes was obliged to obey; he scrawled a few +lines to which Demetrio appended an illegible scratch. + +"May God repay you, my child! God will lead you to +heaven that you may enjoy his glory. Ten bushels of corn +are barely enough for this year's food!" the man cried, +weeping for gratitude. Then he took the paper, kissed +everybody's hand, and withdrew. + + + +XII + + +They had almost reached Cuquio, when Anastasio +Montanez rode up to Demetrio: "Listen, Compadre, I +almost forgot to tell you. . . . You ought to have seen +the wonderful joke that man Blondie played. You know +what he did with the old man who came to complain +about the corn we'd taken away for horses? Well, the +old man took the paper and went to the barracks. 'Right +you are, brother, come in,' said Blondie, 'come in, come +in here; to give you back what's yours is only the right +thing to do. How many bushels did we steal? Ten? Sure +it wasn't more than ten? . . . That's right, about fifteen, +eh? Or was it twenty, perhaps? . . . Try and remember, +friend. . . . Of course you're a poor man, aren't you, and +you've a lot of kids to raise. . . . Yes, twenty it was. All +right, now! It's not ten or fifteen or twenty I'm going to +give you. You're going to count for yourself. . . . One, +two, three . . . and when you've had enough you just tell +me and I'll stop.' And Blondie pulled out his sword and +beat him till he cried for mercy." + +War Paint rocked in her saddle, convulsed with mirth. +Camilla, unable to control herself, blurted out: + +"The beast! His heart's rotten to the core! No wonder +I loathe him!" + +At once War Paint's expression changed. + +"What the hell is it to you!" she scowled. Camilla, +frightened, spurred her horse forward. War Paint did like- +wise and, as she trotted past Camilla, suddenly she +reached out, seized the other's hair and pulled with all +her might. Camilla's horse shied; Camilla, trying to brush +her hair back from over her eyes, abandoned the reins. +She hesitated, lost her balance and fell in the road, striking +her forehead against the stones. + +War Paint, weeping with laughter, pressed on with ut- +most skill and caught Camilla's horse. + +"Come on, Tenderfoot; here's a job for you," Pan- +cracio said as he saw Camilla on Demetrio's saddle, her +face covered with blood. + +Luis Cervantes hurried toward her with some cotton; +but Camilla, choking down her sobs and wiping her eyes, +said hoarsely: + +"Not from you! If I was dying, I wouldn't accept any- +thing from you . . . not even water." + + In Cuquio Demetrio received a message. + +"We've got to go back to Tepatitlan, General," said +Luis Cervantes, scanning the dispatch rapidly. "You've +got to leave the men there while you go to Lagos and take +the train over to Aguascalientes." + +There was much heated protest, the men muttering to +themselves or even groaning out loud. Some of them, +mountaineers, swore that they would not continue with +the troop. + +Camilla wept all night. On the morrow at dawn, she +begged Demetrio to let her return home. + +"If you don't like me, all right," he answered sullenly. + +"That's not the reason. I care for you a lot, really. +But you know how it is. That woman . . ." + +"Never mind about her. It's all right! I'll send her off to +hell today. I had already decided that." + + Camilla dried her tears. . . . + +Every horse was saddled; the men were waiting only +for orders from the Chief. Demetrio went up to War +Paint and said under his breath: + +"You're not coming with us." + +"What!" she gasped. + +"You're going to stay here or go wherever you damn +well please, but you're not coming along with us." + +"What? What's that you're saying?" Still she could not +catch Demetrio's meaning. Then the truth dawned upon +her. "You want to send me away? By God, I suppose you +believe all the filth that bitch . . . " + +And War Paint proceeded to insult Camilla, Luis Cer- +vantes, Demetrio, and anyone she happened to remem- +ber at the moment, with such power and originality that +the soldiers listened in wonder to vituperation that trans- +cended their wildest dream of profanity and filth. +Demetrio waited a long time patiently. Then, as she +showed no sign of stopping, he said to a soldier quite +calmly: + + "Throw this drunken woman out." + +"Blondie, Blondie, love of my life! Help! Come and +show them you're a real man! Show them they're nothing +but sons of bitches! . . ." + + She gesticulated, kicked, and shouted. + +Blondie appeared; he had just got up. His blue eyes +blinked under heavy lids; his voice rang hoarse. He asked +what had occurred; someone explained. Then he went +up to War Paint, and with great seriousness, said: + +"Yes? Really? Well, if you want my opinion, I think +this is just what ought to happen. So far as I'm con- +cerned, you can go straight to hell. We're all fed up +with you, see?" + +War Paint's face turned to granite; she tried to speak +but her muscles were rigid. + +The soldiers laughed. Camilla, terrified, held her breath. + +War Paint stared slowly at everyone about her. It all +took no more than a few seconds. In a trice she bent +down, drew a sharp, gleaming dagger from her stocking +and leapt at Camilla. + +A shrill cry. A body fell, the blood spurting from it. + +"Kill her, Goddamn it," cried Demetrio, beyond him- +self. "Kill her!" + +Two soldiers fell upon War Paint, but she brandished +her dagger, defying them to touch her: + +"Not the likes of you, Goddamn you! Kill me your- +self, Demetrio!" + +War Paint stepped forward, surrendered her dagger +and, thrusting her breast forward, let her arms fall to +her side. + +Demetrio picked up the dagger, red with blood, but +his eyes clouded; he hesitated, took a step backward. +Then, with a heavy hoarse voice he growled, enraged: + +"Get out of here! Quick!" + +No one dared stop her. She moved off slowly, mute, +somber. + + Blondie's shrill, guttural voice broke the silent stupor: + +"Thank God! At last I'm rid of that damned louse!" + + + + +XIII + + +Someone plunged a knife +Deep in my side. +Did he know why? +I don't know why. +Maybe he knew, +I never knew. +The blood flowed out +Of that mortal wound. +Did he know why? +I don't know why. +Maybe he knew, +I never knew. + + +His head lowered, his hands crossed over the pommel +of his saddle, Demetrio in melancholy accents sang the +strains of the intriguing song. Then he fell silent; for +quite a while he continued to feel oppressed and sad. + +"You'll see, as soon as we reach Lagos you'll come out +of it, General. There's plenty of pretty girls to give us a +good time," Blondie said. + +"Right now I feel like getting damn drunk," Deme- +trio answered, spurring his horse forward and leaving +them as if he wished to abandon himself entirely to his +sadness. + +After many hours of riding he called Cervantes. + +"Listen, Tenderfoot, why in hell do we have to go to +Aguascalientes?" + +"You have to vote for the Provisional President of the +Republic, General!" + +"President, what? Who in the devil, then, is this man +Carranza? I'll be damned if I know what it's all about." + +At last they reached Lagos. Blondie bet that he would +make Demetrio laugh that evening. + + Trailing his spurs noisily over the pavement, Deme- +trio entered "El Cosmopolita" with Luis Cervantes, +Blondie, and his assistants. + +The civilians, surprised in their attempt to escape, re- +mained where they were. Some feigned to return to their +tables to continue drinking and talking; others hesitantly +stepped up to present their respects to the commander. + +"General, so pleased! . . . Major! Delighted to meet you!" + +"That's right! I love refined and educated friends," +Blondie said. "Come on, boys," he added, jovially draw- +ing his gun, "I'm going to play a tune that'll make you +all dance." + +A bullet ricocheted on the cement floor passing be- +tween the legs of the tables, and the smartly dressed +young men-about-town began to jump much as a woman +jumps when frightened by a mouse under her skirt. Pale +as ghosts, they conjured up wan smiles of obsequious ap- +proval. Demetrio barely parted his lips, but his followers +doubled over with laughter. + +"Look, Blondie," Quail shouted, "look at that man +going out there. Look, he's limping." + + "I guess the bee stung him all right." + +Blondie, without turning to look at the wounded man, +announced with enthusiasm that he could shoot off the +top of a tequila bottle at thirty paces without aiming. + +"Come on, friend, stand up," he said to the waiter. +He dragged him out by the hand to the patio of the +hotel and set a tequila bottle on his head. The poor +devil refused. Insane with fright, he sought to escape, +but Blondie pulled his gun and took aim. + +"Come on, you son of a sea cook! If you keep on +I'll give you a nice warm one!" + +Blondie went to the opposite wall, raised his gun and +fired. The bottle broke into bits, the alcohol poured over +the lad's ghastly face. + +"Now it's a go," cried Blondie, running to the bar to +get another bottle, which he placed on the lad's head. + +He returned to his former position, he whirled about, +and shot without aiming. But he hit the waiter's ear in- +stead of the bottle. Holding his sides with laughter, he +said to the young waiter: + +"Here, kid, take these bills. It ain't much. But you'll +be all right with some alcohol and arnica." + +After drinking a great deal of alcohol and beer, Deme- +trio spoke: + +"Pay the bill, Blondie, I'm going to leave you." + +"I ain't got a penny, General, but that's all right. I'll +fix it. How much do we owe you, friend?" + +"One hundred and eighty pesos, Chief," the bartender +answered amiably. + +Quickly, Blondie jumped behind the bar and with a +sweep of both arms, knocked down all the glasses and +bottles. + +"Send the bill to General Villa, understand?" + +He left, laughing loudly at his prank. + +"Say there, you, where do the girls hang out?" +Blondie asked, reeling up drunkenly toward a small well- +dressed man, standing at the door of a tailor shop. + +The man stepped down to the sidewalk politely to let +Blondie pass. + +Blondie stopped and looked at him curiously, im- +pertinently. + +"Little boy, you're very small and dainty, ain't you? +. . . No? . . . Then I'm a liar! . . . That's right! . . . You +know the puppet dance. . . . You don't? The hell you +don't! . . . I met you in a circus! I know you can even +dance on a tightrope! . . . You watch!" + +Blondie drew his gun out and began to shoot, aiming +at the tailor's feet; the tailor gave a little jump at every +pull of the trigger. + +"See! You do know how to dance on the tightrope, +don't you?" + +Taking his friends by the arm, he ordered them to +lead him to the red-light district, punctuating every step +by a shot which smashed a street light, or struck some +wall, a door, or a distant house. + +Demetrio left him and returned to the hotel, singing +to himself: + +"Someone plunged a knife +Deep in my side. +Did he know why? +I don't know why. +Maybe he knew, +I never knew." + + + +XIV + + + +Stale cigarette smoke, the acrid odors of sweaty +clothing, the vapors of alcohol, the breathing of a +crowded multitude, worse by far than a trainful of pigs. + +Texas hats, adorned with gold braid, and khaki pre- +dominate. "Gentlemen, a well-dressed man stole my suit- +case in the station. My life's savings! I haven't enough +to feed my little boy now!" + +The shrill voice, rising to a shriek or trailing off into +a sob, is drowned out by the tumult within the train. + +"What the hell is the old woman talking about?" +Blondie asks, entering in search of a seat. + +"Something about a suitcase . . . and a well-dressed +man," Pancracio replies. He has already the laps of two +civilians to sit on. + +Demetrio and the others elbow their way in. Since +those on whom Pancracio had sat preferred to stand up, +Demetrio and Luis Cervantes quickly seize the vacant +seats. + +Suddenly a woman who has stood up holding a child +all the way from Irapuato, faints. A civilian takes the +child in his arms. The others pretend to have seen noth- +ing. Some women, traveling with the soldiers, occupy two +or three seats with baggage, dogs, cats, parrots. Some +of the men wearing Texan hats laugh at the plump arms +and pendulous breasts of the woman who fainted. + +"Gentlemen, a well-dressed man stole my suitcase at +the station in Silao! All my life's savings . . . I haven't +got enough to feed my little boy now! . . ." + +The old woman speaks rapidly, parrotlike, sighing and +sobbing. Her sharp eyes peer about on all sides. Here +she gets a bill, and further on, another. They shower +money upon her. She finishes the collection, and goes a +few seats ahead. + +"Gentlemen, a well-dressed man stole my suitcase in +the station at Silao." Her words produce an immediate +and certain effect. + +A well-dressed man, a dude, a tenderfoot, stealing a +suitcase! Amazing, phenomenal! It awakens a feeling of +universal indignation. It's a pity: if this well-dressed man +were here every one of the generals would shoot him +one after the other! + +"There's nothing as vile as a city dude who steals!" +a man says, exploding with indignation. + +"To rob a poor old lady!" + +"To steal from a poor defenseless woman!" + +They prove their compassion by word and deed: a +harsh verdict against the culprit; a five-peso bill for the +victim. + +"And I'm telling you the truth," Blondie declares. +"Don't think it's wrong to kill, because when you kill, +it's always out of anger. But stealing--Bah!" + +This profound piece of reasoning meets with unani- +mous assent. After a short silence while he meditates, +a colonel ventures his opinion: + +"Everything is all right according to something, see? +That is, everything has its circumstances, see? God's own +truth is this: I have stolen, and if I say that everyone +here has done the trick, I'm not telling a lie, I reckon!" + +"Hell, I stole a lot of them sewing machines in Mex- +ico," exclaims a major. "I made more'n five hundred +pesos even though I sold them at fifty cents apiece!" + +A toothless captain, with hair prematurely white, an- +nounces: + +"I stole some horses in Zacatecas, all damn fine horses +they was, and then I says to myself, 'This is your own +little lottery, Pascual Mata,' I says. 'You won't have a +worry in all your life after this.' And the damned thing +about it was that General Limon took a fancy to the +horses too, and he stole them from me!" + +"Of course--there's no use denying it, I've stolen too," +Blondie confesses. "But ask any one of my partners +how much profit I've got. I'm a big spender and my +Purse is my friends' to have a good time on! I have +a better time if I drink myself senseless than I would +have sending money back home to the old woman!" + +The subject of "I stole," though apparently inexhausti- +ble, ceases to hold the men's attention. Decks of cards +gradually appear on the seats, drawing generals and of- +ficers as the light draws mosquitoes. + +The excitement of gambling soon absorbs every in- +terest, the heat grows more and more intense. To breathe +is to inhale the air of barracks, prison, brothel, and +pigsty all in one. + +And rising above the babble, from the car ahead ever +the shrill voice, "Gentlemen, a well-dressed young man +stole . . ." + + +The streets in Aguascalientes were so many refuse +piles. Men in khaki moved to and fro like bees before +their hive, overrunning the restaurants, the crapulous +lunch houses, the parlous hotels, and the stands of the +street vendors on which rotten pork lay alongside grimy +cheese. + +The smell of these viands whetted the appetites of +Demetrio and his men. They forced their way into a +small inn, where a disheveled old hag served, on earthen- +ware plates, some pork with bones swimming in a clear +chili stew and three tough burnt tortillas. They paid two +pesos apiece; as they left Pancracio assured his comrades +he was hungrier than when he entered. + +"Now," said Demetrio, "we'll go and consult with +General Natera!" + + They made for the northern leader's billet. + +A noisy, excited crowd stopped them at a street cross- +ing. A man, lost in the multitude, was mouthing words +in the monotonous, unctuous tones of a prayer. They +came up close enough to see him distinctly; he wore a +shirt and trousers of cheap white cloth and was repeat- +ing: + +"All good Catholics should read this prayer to Christ +Our Lord upon the Cross with due devotion. Thus they +will be immune from storms and pestilence, famine, and +war." + +"This man's no fool," said Demetrio smiling. + +The man waved a sheaf of printed handbills in his +hand and cried: + +"A quarter of a peso is all you have to pay for this +prayer to Christ Our Lord upon the Cross. A quarter . . ." + +Then he would duck for a moment, to reappear with +a snake's tooth, a sea star, or the skeleton of a fish. +In the same predicant tone, he lauded the medical virtues +and the mystical powers of every article he sold. + +Quail, who had no faith in Venancio, requested the +man to pull a tooth out. Blondie purchased a black seed +from a certain fruit which protected the possessor from +lightning or any other catastrophe. Anastasio Montanez +purchased a prayer to Christ Our Lord upon the Cross, +and, folding it carefully, stuck it into his shirt with a +pious gesture. + +"As sure as there's a God in heaven," Natera said, +"this mess hasn't blown over yet. Now it's Villa fighting +Carranza." + +Without answering him, his eyes fixed in a stare, +Demetrio demanded a further explanation. + +"It means," Natera said, "that the Convention won't +recognize Carranza as First Chief of the Constitutionalist +Army. It's going to elect a Provisional President of the +Republic. Do you understand me, General?" + +Demetrio nodded assent. + +"What's your opinion, General?" asked Natera. + +Demetrio shrugged his shoulders: + +"It seems to me that the meat of the matter is that +we've got to go on fighting, eh? All right! Let's go to it! +I'm game to the end, you know." + +"Good, but on what side?" + +Demetrio, nonplussed, scratched his head: + +"Look here, don't ask me any more questions. I never +went to school, you know. . . . You gave me the eagle +I wear on my hat, didn't you? All right then; you just +tell me: 'Demetrio, do this or do that,' and that's all +there's to it!" + + + + + +PART THREE + + +"Villa? Obregon? Carranza? What's the difference? I love +the revolution like a volcano in eruption; I love the volcano, +because it's a volcano, the revolution, because it's the revolution!" + + + +I + + +El Paso, Texas, May 16, 1915 + + +My Dear Venancio: + +Due to the pressure of professional duties I have +been unable to answer your letter of January 4 before +now. As you already know, I was graduated last De- +cember. I was sorry to hear of Pancracio's and Manteca's +fate, though I am not surprised that they stabbed each +other over the gambling table. It is a pity; they were +both brave men. I am deeply grieved not to be able to +tell Blondie how sincerely and heartily I congratulate +him for the only noble and beautiful thing he ever did +in his whole life: to have shot himself! + +Dear Venancio, although you may have enough money +to purchase a degree, I am afraid you won't find it +very easy to become a doctor in this country. You know +I like you very much, Venancio; and I think you de- +serve a better fate. But I have an idea which may prove +profitable to both of us and which may improve your +social position, as you desire. We could do a fine busi- +ness here if we were to go in as partners and set up a +typical Mexican restaurant in this town. I have no re- +serve funds at the moment since I've spent all I had in +getting my college degree, but I have something much +more valuable than money; my perfect knowledge of this +town and its needs. You can appear as the owner; we +will make a monthly division of profits. Besides, con- +cerning a question that interests us both very much, +namely, your social improvement, it occurs to me that +you play the guitar quite well. In view of the recom- +mendations I could give you and in view of your train- +ing as well, you might easily be admitted as a member +of some fraternal order; there are several here which +would bring you no inconsiderable social prestige. + +Don't hesitate, Venancio, come at once and bring +your funds. I promise you we'll get rich in no time. My +best wishes to the General, to Anastasio, and the rest +of the boys. + +Your affectionate friend, +Luis Cervantes + + + +Venancio finished reading the letter for the hundredth +time and, sighing, repeated: + +"Tenderfoot certainly knows how to pull the strings +all right!" + +"What I can't get into my head," observed Anastasio +Montanez, "is why we keep on fighting. Didn't we finish +off this man Huerta and his Federation?" + +Neither the General nor Venancio answered; but the +same thought kept beating down on their dull brains like +a hammer on an anvil. + +They ascended the steep hill, their heads bowed, pen- +sive, their horses walking at a slow gait. Stubbornly +restless, Anastasio made the same observation to other +groups; the soldiers laughed at his candor. If a man has +a rifle in his hands and a beltful of cartridges, surely he +should use them. That means fighting. Against whom? +For whom? That is scarcely a matter of importance. + +The endless wavering column of dust moved up the +trail, a swirling ant heap of broad straw sombreros, dirty +khaki, faded blankets, and black horses. . . . + +Not a man but was dying of thirst; no pool or stream +or well anywhere along the road. A wave of dust rose +from the white, wild sides of a small canyon, swayed +mistily on the hoary crest of huizache trees and the green- +ish stumps of cactus. Like a jest, the flowers in the cac- +tus opened out, fresh, solid, aflame, some thorny, others +diaphanous. + +At noon they reached a hut, clinging to the precipi- +tous sierra, then three more huts strewn over the margin +of a river of burnt sand. Everything was silent, desolate. +As soon as they saw men on horseback, the people in +the huts scurried into the hills to hide. Demetrio grew +indignant. + +"Bring me anyone you find hiding or running away," +he commanded in a loud voice. + +"What? What did you say?" Valderrama cried in sur- +prise. "The men of the sierra? Those brave men who've +not yet done what those chickens down in Aguascalientes +and Zacatecas have done all the time? Our own brothers, +who weather storms, who cling to the rocks like moss +itself? I protest, sir; I protest!" + +He spurred his miserable horse forward and caught +up with the General. + +"The mountaineers," he said solemnly and emphati- +cally, "are flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone. Os ex +osibus meis et caro de carne mea. Mountaineers are made +from the same timber we're made of! Of the same sound +timber from which heroes . . ." + +With a confidence as sudden as it was courageous, +he hit the General across the chest. The General smiled +benevolently. + +Valderrama, the tramp, the crazy maker of verses, did +he ever know what he said? + +When the soldiers reached a small ranch, despairingly, +they searched the empty huts and small houses without +finding a single stale tortilla, a solitary rotten pepper, or +one pinch of salt with which to flavor the horrible taste +of dry meat. The owners of the huts, their peaceful +brethren, were impassive with the stonelike impassivity +of Aztec idols; others, more human, with a slow smile on +their colorless lips and beardless faces, watched these +fierce men who less than a month ago had made the +miserable huts of others tremble with fear, now in their +turn fleeing their own huts where the ovens were cold +and the water tanks dry, fleeing with their tails between +their legs, cringing, like curs kicked out of their own +houses. + +But the General did not countermand his order. Some +soldiers brought back four fugitives, captive and bound. + + + +II + + +"WHY do you hide?" Demetrio asked the prisoners. + +"We're not hiding, Chief, we're hitting the trail." + +"Where to?" + +"To our own homes, in God's name, to Durango." + +"Is this the road to Durango?" + +"Peaceful people can't travel over the main road +nowadays, you know that, Chief." + +"You're not peaceful people, you're deserters. Where +do you come from?" Demetrio said, eyeing them with +keen scrutiny. + +The prisoners grew confused; they looked at each +other hesitatingly, unable to give a prompt answer. + +"They're Carranzistas," one of the soldiers said. + +"Carranzistas hell!" one of them said proudly. "I'd +rather be a pig." + +"The truth is we're deserters," another said. "After the +defeat we deserted from General Villa's troops this side +of Celaya." + +"General Villa defeated? Ha! Ha! That's a good joke." + +The soldiers laughed. But Demetrio's brow was +wrinkled as though a black shadow had passed over his +eyes. + +"There ain't a son of a bitch on earth who can beat +General Villa!" said a bronzed veteran with a scar clear +across the face. + +Without a change of expression, one of the deserters +stared persistently at him and said: + +"I know who you are. When we took Torreon you +were with General Urbina. In Zacatecas you were with +General Natera and then you shifted to the Jalisco +troops. Am I lying?" + These words met with a sudden and definite effect. +The prisoners gave a detailed account of the tremendous +defeat of Villa at Celaya. Demetrio's men listened in +silence, stupefied. + +Before resuming their march, they built a fire on which +to roast some bull meat. Anastasio Montanez, searching +for food among the huizache trees, descried the close- +cropped neck of Valderrama's horse in the distance +among the rocks. + +"Hey! Come here, you fool, after all there ain't been +no gravy!" he shouted. + +Whenever anything was said about shooting someone, +Valderrama, the romantic poet, would disappear for a +whole day. + +Hearing Anastasio's voice, Valderrama was convinced +that the prisoners had been set at liberty. A few mo- +ments later, he was joined by Venancio and Demetrio. + +"Heard the news?" Venancio asked gravely. + +"No." + +"It's very serious. A terrible mess! Villa was beaten +at Celaya by Obregon and Carranza is winning all +along the line! We're done for!" + +Valderrama's gesture was disdainful and solemn as +an emperor's. "Villa? Obregon? Carranza? What's the +difference? I love the revolution like a volcano in erup- +tion; I love the volcano because it's a volcano, the revolu- +tion because it's the revolution! What do I care about +the stones left above or below after the cataclysm? What +are they to me?" + +In the glare of the midday sun the reflection of a +white tequila bottle glittered on his forehead; and, jubi- +lant, he ran toward the bearer of such a marvelous gift. + +"I like this crazy fool," Demetrio said with a smile. +"He says things sometimes that make you think." + +They resumed their march; their uncertainty translated +into a lugubrious silence. Slowly, inevitably, the catastro- +phe must come; it was even now being realized. Villa +defeated was a fallen god; when gods cease to be +omnipotent, they are nothing. + +Quail spoke. His words faithfully interpreted the gen- +eral opinion: + +"What the hell, boys! Every spider's got to spin his +own web now!" + + + +III + + + +In Zacatecas and Aguascalientes, in the little country +towns and the neighboring communities, haciendas and +ranches were deserted. When one of the officers found +a barrel of tequila, the event assumed miraculous propor- +tions. Everything was conducted with secrecy and care; +deep mystery was preserved to oblige the soldiers to +leave on the morrow before sunrise under Anastasio and +Venancio. + +When Demetrio awoke to the strains of music, his +general staff, now composed chiefly of young ex-govern- +ment officers, told him of the discovery, and Quail, in- +terpreting the thoughts of his colleagues, said senten- +tiously: + +"These are bad times and you've got to take advantage +of everythin'. If there are some days when a duck can +swim, there's others when he can't take a drink." + +The string musicians played all day; the most solemn +honors were paid to the barrel: but Demetrio was very sad. + + +"Did he know why? +I don't know why." + + + +He kept repeating the same refrain. + +In the afternoon there were cockfights. Demetrio sat +down with the chief officers under the roof of the mu- +nicipal portals in front of a city square covered with +weeds, a tumbled kiosk, and some abandoned adobe +houses. + +"Valderrama," Demetrio called, looking away from the +ring with tired eyes, "come and sing me a song--sing +'The Undertaker.'" + +But Valderrama did not hear him; he had no eyes +for the fight; he was reciting an impassioned soliloquy as +he watched the sunset over the hills. + +With solemn gestures and emphatic tones, he said: + +"O Lord, Lord, pleasurable it is this thy land! I shall +build me three tents: one for Thee, one for Moses, one +for Elijah!" + +"Valderrama," Demetrio shouted again. "Come and +sing 'The Undertaker' song for me." + +"Hey, crazy, the General is calling you," an officer +shouted. + +Valderrama with his eternally complacent smile went +over to Demetrio's seat and asked the musicians for a +guitar. + +"Silence," the gamesters cried. Valderrama finished +tuning his instrument. + +Quail and Meco let loose on the sand a pair of cocks +armed with long sharp blades attached to their legs. One +was light red; his feathers shone with beautiful obsidian +glints. The other was sand-colored with feathers like +scales burned slowly to a fiery copper color. + +The fight was swift and fierce as a duel between men. +As though moved by springs, the roosters flew at each +other. Their feathers stood up on their arched necks; +their combs were erect, their legs taut. For an instant +they swung in the air without even touching the ground, +their feathers, beaks, and claws lost in a dizzy whirl- +wind. The red rooster suddenly broke, tossed with his +legs to heaven outside the chalk lines. His vermilion eyes +closed slowly, revealing eyelids of pink coral; his tangled +feathers quivered and shook convulsively amid a pool of +blood. + +Valderrama, who could not repress a gesture of violent +indignation, began to play. With the first melancholy +strains of the tune, his anger disappeared. His eyes +gleamed with the light of madness. His glance strayed +over the square, the tumbled kiosk, the old adobe houses, +over the mountains in the background, and over the sky, +burning like a roof afire. He began to sing. He put such +feeling into his voice and such expression into the strings +that, as he finished, Demetrio turned his head aside to +hide his tears. + +But Valderrama fell upon him, embraced him warmly, +and with a familiarity he showed everyone at the ap- +propriate moment, he whispered: +"Drink them! . . . Those are beautiful tears." +Demetrio asked for the bottle, passed it to Valder- +rama. Greedily the poet drank half its contents in one +gulp; then, showing only the whites of his eyes, he faced +the spectators dramatically and, in a highly theatrical +voice, cried: + +"Here you may witness the blessings of the revolution +caught in a single tear." +Then he continued to talk like a madman, but like a +madman whose vast prophetic madness encompassed all +about him, the dusty weeds, the tumbled kiosk, the gray +houses, the lovely hills, and the immeasurable sky. + + + +IV + + +Juchipila rose in the distance, white, bathed in sun- +light, shining in the midst of a thick forest at the foot of a +proud, lofty mountain, pleated like a turban. + +Some of the soldiers, gazing at the spire of the church, +sighed sadly. They marched forward through the canyon, +uncertain, unsteady, as blind men walking without a hand +to guide them. The bitterness of the exodus pervaded +them. + +"Is that town Juchipila?" Valderrama asked. + +In the first stage of his drunkenness, Valderrama had +been counting the crosses scattered along the road, along +the trails, in the hollows near the rocks, in the tortuous +paths, and along the riverbanks. Crosses of black timber +newly varnished, makeshift crosses built out of two logs, +crosses of stones piled up and plastered together, crosses +whitewashed on crumbling walls, humble crosses drawn +with charcoal on the surface of whitish rocks. The +traces of the first blood shed by the revolutionists of +1910, murdered by the Government. + +Before Juchipila was lost from sight, Valderrama got off +his horse, bent down, kneeled, and gravely kissed the +ground. + +The soldiers passed by without stopping. Some laughed +at the crazy man, others jested. Valderrama, deaf to all +about him, breathed his unctuous prayer: + +"O Juchipila, cradle of the Revolution of 1910, O +blessed land, land steeped in the blood of martyrs, blood +of dreamers, the only true men . . ." + +"Because they had no time to be bad!" an ex-Federal +officer interjected as he rode. + +Interrupting his prayer, Valderrama frowned, burst into +stentorian laughter, reechoed by the rocks, and ran to- +ward the officer begging for a swallow of tequila. + +Soldiers minus an arm or leg, cripples, rheumatics, +and consumptives spoke bitterly of Demetrio. Young +whippersnappers were given officers' commissions and +wore stripes on their hats without a day's service, even +before they knew how to handle a rifle, while the veter- +ans, exhausted in a hundred battles, now incapacitated +for work, the veterans who had set out as simple pri- +vates, were still simple privates. The few remaining offi- +cers among Demetrio's friends also grumbled, because +his staff was made up of wealthy, dapper young men who +oiled their hair and used perfume. + +"The worst part of it," Venancio said, "is that we're +gettin' overcrowded with Federals!" + +Anastasio himself, who invariably found only praise +for Demetrio's conduct, now seemed to share the general +discontent. + +"See here, brothers," he said, "I spits out the truth +when I sees something. I always tell the boss that if +these people stick to us very long we'll be in a hell of a +fix. Certainly! How can anyone think otherwise? I've no +hair on my tongue; and by the mother that bore me, I'm +going to tell Demetrio so myself." + +Demetrio listened benevolently, and, when Anastasio +had finished, he replied: + +"You're right, there's no gettin' around it, we're in a +bad way. The soldiers grumble about the officers, the +officers grumble about us, see? And we're damn well +ready now to send both Villa and Carranza to hell to +have a good time all by themselves. . . . I guess we're in +the same fix as that peon from Tepatitlan who com- +plained about his boss all day long but worked on just +the same. That's us. We kick and kick, but we keep on +killing and killing. But there's no use in saying anything +to them!" + + "Why, Demetrio?" + +"Hm, I don't know. . . . Because . . . because . . . do +you see? . . . What we've got to do is to make the men +toe the mark. I've got orders to stop a band of men +coming through Cuquio, see? In a few days we'll have +to fight the Carranzistas. It will be great to beat the hell +out of them." + +Valderrama, the tramp, who had enlisted in Deme- +trio's army one day without anyone remembering the +time or the place, overheard some of Demetrio's words. +Fools do not eat fire. That very day Valderrama disap- +peared mysteriously as he had come. + + + +V + + +They entered the streets of Juchipila as the church +bells rang, loud and joyfully, with that peculiar tone that +thrills every mountaineer. + +"It makes me think we are back in the days when the +revolution was just beginning, when the bells rang like +mad in every town we entered and everybody came out +with music, flags, cheers, and fireworks to welcome us," +said Anastasio Montanez. +"They don't like us no more," Demetrio returned. + +"Of course. We're crawling back like a dog with its tail +between its legs," Quail remarked. + +"It ain't that, I guess. They don't give a whoop for the +other side either." +"But why should they like us?" +They spoke no more. + +Presently they reached the city square and stopped in +front of an octagonal, rough, massive church, reminis- +cent of the colonial period. At one time the square must +have been a garden, judging from the bare stunted orange +trees planted between iron and wooden benches. The +sonorous, joyful bells rang again. From within the church, +the honeyed voices of a female chorus rose melancholy +and grave. To the strains of a guitar, the young girls of +the town sang the "Mysteries." + +"What's the fiesta, lady?" Venancio asked of an old +woman who was running toward the church. + +"The Sacred Heart of Jesus!" answered the pious +woman, panting. + +They remembered that one year ago they had captured +Zacatecas. They grew sadder still. + +Juchipila, like the other towns they had passed through +on their way from Tepic, by way of Jalisco, Aguasca- +lientes and Zacatecas, was in ruins. The black trail of +the incendiaries showed in the roofless houses, in the +burnt arcades. Almost all the houses were closed, yet, +here and there, those still open offered, in ironic contrast, +portals gaunt and bare as the white skeletons of horses +scattered over the roads. The terrible pangs of hunger +seemed to speak from every face; hunger on every dusty +cheek, in their dusty countenances; in the hectic flame +of their eyes, which, when they met a soldier, blazed +with hatred. In vain the soldiers scoured the streets in +search of food, biting their lips in anger. A single lunch- +room was open; at once they filled it. No beans, no tor- +tillas, only chili and tomato sauce. In vain the officers +showed their pocketbooks stuffed with bills or used +threats: + +"Yea, you've got papers all right! That's all you've +brought! Try and eat them, will you?" said the owner, +an insolent old shrew with an enormous scar on her +cheek, who told them she had already lain with a dead +man, "to cure her from ever feeling frightened again." + +Despite the melancholy and desolation of the town, +while the women sang in the church, birds sang in the +foliage, and the thrushes piped their lyrical strain on +the withered branches of the orange trees. + + + +VI + + +Demetrio Macias' wife, mad with joy, rushed +along the trail to meet him, leading a child by the hand. +An absence of almost two years! + +They embraced each other and stood speechless. She +wept, sobbed. Demetrio stared in astonishment at his +wife who seemed to have aged ten or twenty years. +Then he looked at the child who gazed up at him in sur- +prise. His heart leaped to his mouth as he saw in the +child's features his own steel features and fiery eyes ex- +actly reproduced. He wanted to hold him in his arms, but +the frightened child took refuge in his mother's skirts. + +"It's your own father, baby! It's your daddy!" + +The child hid his face within the folds of his mother's +skirt, still hostile. + +Demetrio handed the reins of his horse to his orderly +and walked slowly along the steep trail with his wife +and son. + +"Blessed be the Virgin Mary, Praise be to God! Now +you'll never leave us any more, will you? Never . . . +never. . . . You'll stay with us always?" + +Demetrio's face grew dark. Both remained silent, lost +in anguish. Demetrio suppressed a sigh. Memories +crowded and buzzed through his brain like bees about a +hive. + +A black cloud rose behind the sierra and a deafening +roar of thunder resounded. The rain began to fall in +heavy drops; they sought refuge in a rocky hut. + +The rain came pelting down, shattering the white Saint +John roses clustered like sheaves of stars clinging to tree, +rock, bush, and pitaya over the entire mountainside. + +Below in the depths of the canyon, through the gauze +of the rain they could see the tall, sheer palms shaking +in the wind, opening out like fans before the tempest. +Everywhere mountains, heaving hills, and beyond more +hills, locked amid mountains, more mountains encircled +in the wall of the sierra whose loftiest peaks vanished in +the sapphire of the sky. + +"Demetrio, please. For God's sake, don't go away! My +heart tells me something will happen to you this time." + +Again she was wracked with sobs. The child, fright- +ened, cried and screamed. To calm him, she controlled +her own great grief. + +Gradually the rain stopped, a swallow, with silver +breast and wings describing luminous charming curves, +fluttered obliquely across the silver threads of the rain, +gleaming suddenly in the afternoon sunshine. + + "Why do you keep on fighting, Demetrio?" + +Demetrio frowned deeply. Picking up a stone absent- +mindedly, he threw it to the bottom of the canyon. Then +he stared pensively into the abyss, watching the arch of +its flight. + +"Look at that stone; how it keeps on going. . . ." + + + +VII + + + +It was a heavenly morning. It had rained all night, +the sky awakened covered with white clouds. Young wild +colts trotted on the summit of the sierra, with tense +manes and waving hair, proud as the peaks lifting their +heads to the clouds. + +The soldiers stepped among the huge rocks, buoyed +up by the happiness of the morning. None for a moment +dreamed of the treacherous bullet that might be awaiting +him ahead; the unforeseen provides man with his greatest +joy. The soldiers sang, laughed, and chattered away. +The spirit of nomadic tribes stirred their souls. What mat- +ters it whether you go and whence you come? All that +matters is to walk, to walk endlessly, without ever stop- +ping; to possess the valley, the heights of the sierra, far +as the eye can read. + +Trees, brush, and cactus shone fresh after rain. Heavy +drops of limpid water fell from rocks, ocher in hue as +rusty armor. + +Demetrio Macias' men grew silent for a moment. +They believed they heard the familiar rumor of firing in +the distance. A few minutes elapsed but the sound was +not repeated. + +"In this same sierra," Demetrio said, "with but twenty +men I killed five hundred Federals. Remember, Anasta- +sio?" + +As Demetrio began to tell that famous exploit, the +men realized the danger they were facing. What if the +enemy, instead of being two days away, was hiding some- +where among the underbrush on the terrible hill through +whose gorge they now advanced? None dared show the +slightest fear. Not one of Demetrio Macias' men dared +say, "I shall not move another inch!" + + So, when firing began in the distance where the van- +guard was marching, no one felt surprised. The recruits +turned back hurriedly, retreating in shameful flight, +searching for a way out of the canyon. +A curse broke from Demetrio's parched lips. +"Fire at 'em. Shoot any man who runs away!" +"Storm the hill!" he thundered like a wild beast. +But the enemy, lying in ambush by the thousand, +opened up its machine-gun fire. Demetrio's men fell like +wheat under the sickle. + + +Tears of rage and pain rise to Demetrio's eyes as +Anastasio slowly slides from his horse without a sound, +and lies outstretched, motionless. Venancio falls close +beside him, his chest riddled with bullets. Meco hurtles +over the precipice, bounding from rock to rock. + +Suddenly, Demetrio finds himself alone. Bullets whiz +past his ears like hail. He dismounts and crawls over the +rocks, until he finds a parapet: he lays down a stone to +protect his head and, lying flat on the ground, begins to +shoot. + +The enemy scatter in all directions, pursuing the few +fugitives hiding in the brush. Demetrio aims; he does not +waste a single shot. + +His famous marksmanship fills him with joy. Where +he settles his glance, he settles a bullet. He loads his gun +once more . . . takes aim. . . . + +The smoke of the guns hangs thick in the air. Locusts +chant their mysterious, imperturbable song. Doves coo +lyrically in the crannies of the rocks. The cows graze +placidly. + +The sierra is clad in gala colors. Over its inaccessible +peaks the opalescent fog settles like a snowy veil on the +forehead of a bride. + +At the foot of a hollow, sumptuous and huge as the +portico of an old cathedral, Demetrio Macias, his eyes +leveled in an eternal glance, continues to point the barrel +of his gun. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Underdogs, by Mariano Azuela + |