United States or Åland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
They were forced to carry him the rest of the way on a makeshift stretcher of leaves and branches. "He's bleeding frightfully," said Anastasio Montanez, tearing off one of his shirt-sleeves and tying it tightly about Demetrio's thigh, a little above the wound. "That's good," said Venancio. "It'll keep him from bleeding and stop the pain." Venancio was a barber.
You know I like you very much, Venancio; and I think you deserve a better fate. But I have an idea which may prove profitable to both of us and which may improve your social position, as you desire. We could do a fine business here if we were to go in as partners and set up a typical Mexican restaurant in this town.
"Will it be all right if we go with Natera?" "Not only all right," Venancio said insinuatingly, "but I think it absolutely necessary." "Now Chief," Cervantes pursued, "I took a fancy to you the first time I laid eyes on you and I like you more and more every day because I realize what you are worth. Please let me be utterly frank. You do not yet realize your lofty noble function.
The sonorous, joyful bells rang again. From within the church, the honeyed voices of a female chorus rose melancholy and grave. To the strains of a guitar, the young girls of the town sang the "Mysteries." "What's the fiesta, lady?" Venancio asked of an old woman who was running toward the church. "The Sacred Heart of Jesus!" answered the pious woman, panting.
"She's only got one fault," Pancracio observed, stretched out on the ground, staring at the blue sky, "she goes mad over any man she sees." They laughed loudly; but Venancio with utmost gravity pointed to the chapel door. The stranger entered timidly and confided his troubles to Demetrio. The soldiers had cleaned him out; they had not left a single grain of corn. "Why did you let them?"
Luis Cervantes cut the ligaments, soaked the wound in water, covered the leg with large clean rags and bound it up. Demetrio was able to sleep all afternoon and all night. On the morrow he woke up happy. "That tenderfoot has the softest hand in the world!" he said. Quickly Venancio cut in: "All right; just as you say. But don't forget that tenderfoots are like moisture, they seep in everywhere.
"Well, mate, we're almost to Guadalajara," Venancio said, glancing over the smiling row of houses in Tepatitlan nestling against the hillside. They entered joyously. From every window rosy cheeks, dark luminous eyes observed them. The schools were quickly converted into barracks; Demetrio found lodging in the chapel of an abandoned church.
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.
"This fight won't convince our mothers that they gave birth to men or whatever the hell you like...." Manteca added. When they reached the outskirts of the town, Venancio walked ahead and knocked at the door of a hut. "Where's the soldiers' barracks?" he inquired of a man who came out barefoot, a ragged serape covering his body. "Right there, just beyond the Plaza," he answered.
The soldiers scattered about as usual pretending to seek arms and horses, but in reality for the sole purpose of looting. In the afternoon some of Demetrio's men lay stretched out on the church steps, scratching their bellies. Venancio, his chest and shoulders bare, was gravely occupied in killing the fleas in his shirt. A man drew near the wall and sought permission to speak to the commander.
Word Of The Day