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Come on, Pancracio, hand me your bayonet. Damn these rich people, they lock up everything they've got!" She dug the steel point through the crack of a drawer and, pressing on the hilt, broke the lock, opened the splinted cover of a writing desk. Anastasio, Pancracio and War Paint plunged their hands into a mass of post cards, photographs, pictures and papers, scattering them all over the rug.
"What I can't get into my head," observed Anastasio Montanez, "is why we keep on fighting. Didn't we finish off this man Huerta and his Federation?" Neither the General nor Venancio answered; but the same thought kept beating down on their dull brains like a hammer on an anvil. They ascended the steep hill, their heads bowed, pensive, their horses walking at a slow gait.
She liked these gentlemen of the revolution, all right, that she did for, three months ago, you know, the Government soldiers had run away with her only daughter. This had broken her heart, Yes, and driven her all but crazy. As she began, Anastasio Montanez and Quail lay on the floor near the stretcher, their mouths gaping, all ears to the story.
"Heereupon, the Gentlewoman her selfe, became the solicitour to her Father and Mother, telling them plainly, that she was willing to be the Wife of Anastasio: which newes did so highly content them, that upon the Sunday next following, the marriage was very worthily solemnized, and they lived and loved together very kindly.
"Our horses are pretty tired, Anastasio. I think we ought to stay here at least another day." "Well, Compadre Demetrio, I'm hankering for the sierra.... If you only knew.... You may not believe me but nothing strikes me right here. I don't know what I miss but I know I miss something. I feel sad ... lost...." "How many hours' ride from here to Limon?"
I'll go along with you and signal to him; all of them will desert and follow you. Then we'll only have the officers to deal with! If you want to give me a gun or something...." "No more rifles left, brother. But I guess you can put these to some use," Anastasio Montanez said, passing him two hand grenades.
Now, this is for the fellow on the roan horse. Down you come, you shave-headed bastard!" "I'll give that lad on the trail's edge a shower of lead. If you don't hit the river, I'm a liar! Now: look at him!" "Oh, come on, Anastasio don't be cruel; lend me your rifle. Come along, one shot, just one!"
Tears of rage and pain rise to Demetrio's eyes as Anastasio slowly slides from his horse without a sound, and lies outstretched, motionless. Venancio falls close beside him, his chest riddled with bullets. Meco hurtles over the precipice, bounding from rock to rock. Suddenly, Demetrio finds himself alone. Bullets whiz past his ears like hail.
"Anastasio having attentively heard all this discourse, his haire stood upright like Porcupines quils, and his soule was so shaken with the terror, that he stept backe to suffer the Knight to do what he was enjoyned, looking yet with milde commisseration on the poore woman.
How do you like the sound of this leather snake jingling, eh?" Anastasio shook his belt; the silver coins rang as he shook them together. Meanwhile, Pancracio dealt the cards, the jack of spades turned up out of the deck and a quarrel ensued. Altercation, noise, then shouts, and, at last, insults.
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