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But though Caesar had kept his intentions quiet, the Orsini had been forewarned, and, taking out all the troops they had by the gate of San Pancracio, they had made along detour and blocked Caesar's way; so, when the latter arrived at Storta, he found the Orsini's army drawn up awaiting him in numbers exceeding his own by at least one-half.
"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.
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.
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."
"Come on, Tenderfoot; here's a job for you," Pancracio 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 anything from you ... not even water." In Cuquio Demetrio received a message.
"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?" 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.
The soldiers shouted defiance to their enemies; the latter, 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?
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.
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.
That's why Villa and Natera and Carranza are fighting; that's why we, every man of us, are fighting." "Yes ... yes ... exactly what I've been thinking myself," said Venancio in a climax of enthusiasm. "Hey, there, Pancracio," Macias called, "pull down two more beers." "You ought to see how clear that fellow can make things, Compadre," Demetrio said.
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