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Updated: June 24, 2025
In vain an old sergeant harangued the soldiers, insulting 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.
"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.
"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," Anastasio said, striving to quiet them. Indeed, Demetrio, having ascertained the cause of the turmoil, ordered them to bring the prisoner before him.
The few remaining officers 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.
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.
I dressed myself, rather frightened, I confess, but determined upon pleading complete ignorance of everything, and I proceeded to Demetrio's room; and I was confronted with horror-stricken countenances and bitter reproaches. I found all the guests around him. I protested my innocence, but everyone smiled.
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 disarmed Demetrio from behind.
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. At midnight Demetrio Macias ordered the march to be resumed.
"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.
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...."
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