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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?"
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!"
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.
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.
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 bandages 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."
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!
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.
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 morning. What the hell do you want?" "I want to buy some of those books you're burning."
"Ah, we're going to meet them!" cried Pancracio jubilantly, 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.
We merely 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 respectable...." "Spinsters, hell! What about these kids here?" Pancracio interrupts brutally.
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