nico"
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 business 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 tremulous 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 gravity.

But everything turned out for the best, since his awkwardness 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, how