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Updated: June 3, 2025
Anyhow, I'm flying the rattlesnake flag of Bunker Hill, 'Don't Tread on Me! Whether the Rurales see it or not, I've saved their hides. If the Apaches had got to this fort first, gee, how they would have crumpled up the Greasers as they came along the trail!"
"I'll argue it out with 'em here." "Señor, I have killed a man!" gasped Ramon. Waring flung the reins to his companion. "All right! This isn't a fiesta, hombre; this is business." Ramon turned and put his horse up the slope, Dex following. Waring curled behind a rock and swept the valley with his glass. The heads of several rurales were visible in the brush.
And Ramon's wiry little cayuse, though willing to go on until he dropped, could not last much longer. But to leave Ramon to the rurales was not in Waring's mind. "We'll keep on, amigo," he said, "and in a few hours we'll know whether it's to be a ride or a fight." "I shall pray," whispered Ramon. "For a fresh horse, then." "No, señor. That would be of no use. I shall pray that you may escape.
Farmhouses and cottages were up to their middle in the yellow liquidity; haystacks looked like dull little islands; windows and doors gaped open, without faces; and interruption and flight were represented in the scene. It was brought home to me that the popula- tions rurales have many different ways of suffering, and my heart glowed with a grateful sense of cockney- ism.
They're a sort of country police; but don't draw any mental crayon portraits of the worthy constables with a tin star and a gray goatee. The rurales well, if we'd mount our Supreme Court on broncos, arm 'em with Winchesters, and start 'em out after John Doe et al. we'd have about the same thing. When the rurales started for us we started for the States. They chased us as far as Matamoras.
Giving the rurales some money, he crossed the square to the presidio and going to his room lighted a cigarette. He thought a smoke might be soothing, for he had got a jar. After a time, he went to look for Alvarez and found him sitting in front of a table in the patio.
They took me to the old Indian mission we were cut off from the ship and Father Herman put the rurales off my track. I've sent him wine and candles, he's at the mission yet; it stands between thick forest and swamps like this, and the padre's the only white man who has lived there long. Get down the chart and I'll show you the landing place."
At the same time President Madero induced his former fellow rebel, Ambrosio Figueroa, now Commander-in-Chief of Mexico's rural guards, to cooperate with General Huerta by bringing a mounted force of three thousand rurales from Guerrero into Morelos from the south so as to hem in the Zapatistas between himself and Huerta at Cuernavaca.
He seemed submerged in a lassitude which he neither invited nor struggled against. A group of riders appeared down the road. The lean man brushed a cloud of smoke away and gazed at them with indifference. They drew nearer. He saw that they were Mexicans rurales. Without turning his head, he called to an invisible somebody in the next room. "Jack, drift over to the cantina and get a drink."
In those days his name had not been Felipe Rivera. It had been Fernandez, his father's and mother's name. Him had they called Juan. Later, he had changed it himself, for he had found the name of Fernandez hated by prefects of police, jefes politicos, and rurales. Big, hearty Joaquin Fernandez! A large place he occupied in Rivera's visions.
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