fighter 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 overhead," 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, congratulating
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 mountain 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 playing in his sleepy eyes and on his
bearded face. Pancracio's harsh, gorillalike prof