The Underdogs — Part 1, chapters 15-16
XV
That evening, there was much merrymaking at the dance, and a great quantity of mezcal was drunk.
"I miss Camilla," said Demetrio in a loud voice.
Everybody looked about for Camilla.
"She's sick, she's got a headache," said Agapita harshly, uneasy as she caught sight of the malicious glances leveled at her.
When the dance was over, Demetrio, somewhat unsteady on his feet, thanked all the kind neighbors who had welcomed them and promised that when the revolution had triumphed he would remember them one and all, because "hospital or jail is a true test of friendship."
"May God's hand lead you all," said an old woman.
"God bless you all and keep you well," others added.
Utterly drunk, Maria Antonia said: "Come back soon, damn soon!"
On the morrow, Maria Antonia, who, though she was pockmarked and walleyed, nevertheless enjoyed a notorious reputation--indeed it was confidently proclaimed that no man had failed to go with her behind the river weeds at some time or other--shouted to Camilla: "Hey there, you!
What's the matter?
What are you doing there skulking in the corner with a shawl tied round your head!
You're crying, I wager.
Look at her eyes; they look like a witch's. There's no sorrow lasts more than three days!"
Agapita knitted her eyebrows and muttered indistinctly to herself.
The old crones felt uneasy and lonesome since Demetrio's men had left.
The men, too, in spite of their gossip and insults, lamented their departure since now they would have no one to bring them fresh meat every day.
It is pleasant indeed to spend your time eating and drinking, and sleeping all day long in the cool shade of the rocks, while clouds ravel and unravel their fleecy threads on the blue shuttle of the sky.
"Look at them again.
There they go!"
Maria Antonia yelled.
"Why, they look like toys."
Demetrio's men, riding their thin nags, could still be descried in the distance against the sapphire translucence of the sky, where the broken rocks and the chaparral melted into a single bluish smooth surface.
Across the air a gust of hot wind bore the broken, faltering strains of "La Adelita," the revolutionary song, to the settlement.
Camilla, who had come out when Maria Antonia shouted, could no longer control herself; she dived back into her hut, unable to restrain her tears and moaning.
Maria Antonia burst into laughter and moved off.
"They've cast the evil eye on my daughter," Agapita said in perplexity.
She pondered a while, then duly reached a decision.
From a pole in the hut she took down a piece of strong leather which her husband used to hitch up the yoke.
This pole stood between a picture of Christ and one of the Virgin.
Agapita promptly twisted the leather and proceeded to administer a sound thrashing to Camilla in order to dispel the evil spirits.
Riding proudly on his horse, Demetrio felt like a new man.
His eyes recovered their peculiar metallic brilliance, and the blood flowed, red and warm, through his coppery, pure-blooded Aztec cheeks.
The men threw out their chests as if to breathe the widening horizon, the immensity of the sky, the blue from the mountains and the fresh air, redolent with the various odors of the sierra.
They spurred their horses to a gallop as if in that mad race they laid claims of possession to the earth.
What man among them now remembered the stern chief of police, the growling policeman, or the conceited cacique?
What man remembered his pitiful hut where he slaved away, always under the eyes of the owner or the ruthless and sullen foreman, always forced to rise before dawn, and to take up his shovel, basket, or goad, wearing himself out to earn a mere pitcher of atole and a handful of beans?
They laughed, they sang, they whistled, drunk with the sunlight, the air of the open spaces, the wine of life.
Meco, prancing forward on his horse, bared his white glistening teeth, joking and kicking up like a clown.
"Hey, Pancracio," he asked with utmost seriousness, "my wife writes me I've got another kid.
How in hell is that?
I ain't seen her since Madero was President."
"That's nothing," the other replied.
"You just left her a lot of eggs to hatch for you!"
They all laughed uproariously.
Only Meco, grave and aloof, sang in a voice horribly shrill: "I gave her a penny That wasn't enough.
I gave her a nickel The wench wanted more.
We bargained.
I asked If a dime was enough But she wanted a quarter.
By God!
That was tough!
All wenches are fickle And trumpery stuff!"
The sun, beating down upon them, dulled their minds and bodies and presently they were silent.
All day long they rode through the canyon, up and down the steep, round hills, dirty and bald as a man's head, hill after hill in endless succession.
At last, late in the afternoon, they descried several stone church towers in the heart of a bluish ridge, and, beyond, the white road with its curling spirals of dust and its gray telegraph poles.
They advanced toward the main road; in the distance they spied a figure of an Indian sitting on the embankment.
They drew up to him.
He proved to be an unfriendly looking old man, clad in rags; he was laboriously attempting to mend his leather sandals with the help of a dull knife.
A
burro loaded with fresh green grass stood by.
Demetrio accosted him.
"What are you doing, Grandpa?"
"Gathering alfalfa for my cow."
"How many Federals are there around here?"
"Just a few: not more than a dozen, I reckon."
The old man grew communicative.
He told them of many important rumors: Obregon was besieging Guadalajara, Torres was in complete control of the Potosi region, Natera ruled over Fresnillo.
"All right," said Demetrio, "you can go where you're headed for, see, but you be damn careful not to tell anyone you saw us, because if you do, I'll pump you full of lead.
And I could track you down, even if you tried to hide in the pit of hell, see?"
"What do you say, boys?"
Demetrio asked them as soon as the old man had disappeared.
"To hell with the mochos!
We'll kill every blasted one of them!"
they cried in unison.
Then they set to counting their cartridges and the hand grenades the Owl had made out of fragments of iron tubing and metal bed handles.
"Not much to brag about, but we'll soon trade them for rifles," Anastasio observed.
Anxiously they pressed forward, spurring the thin flanks of their nags to a gallop.
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.
XVI
At midnight Demetrio Macias ordered the march to be resumed.
The town was five or six miles away; the best plan was to take the soldiers by surprise, before reveille.
The sky was cloudy, with here and there a star shining.
From time to time a flash of lightning crossed the sky with a red dart, illumining the far horizon.
Luis Cervantes asked Demetrio whether the success of the attack might not be better served by procuring a guide or leastways by ascertaining the topographic conditions of the town and the precise location of the soldiers' quarters.
"No," Demetrio answered, accompanying his smile with a disdainful gesture, "we'll simply fall on them when they least expect it; that's all there is to it, see?
We've done it before all right, lots of times!
Haven't you ever seen the squirrels stick their heads out of their holes when you poured in water?
Well, that's how these lousy soldiers are going to feel.
Do you see?
They'll be frightened out of their wits the moment they hear our first shot.
Then they'll slink out and stand as targets for us."
"Suppose the old man we met yesterday lied to us.
Suppose there are fifty soldiers instead of twenty.
Who knows but he's a spy sent out by the Federals!"
"Ha, Tenderfoot, frightened already, eh?"
Anastasio Montanez mocked.
"Sure!
Handling a rifle and messing about with bandages are two different things," Pancracio observed.
"Well, that's enough talk, I guess," said Meco.
"All we have to do is fight a dozen frightened rats."
"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.
Since nobody knew where the city square was, Venancio made him walk ahead to show the way.
Trembling with fear, the poor devil told them they were doing him a terrible wrong.
"I'm just a poor day laborer, sir; I've got a wife and a lot of kids."
"What the hell do you think I have, dogs?"
Demetrio scowled.
"I've got kids too, see?"
Then he commanded: "You men keep quiet.
Not a sound out of you!
And walk down the middle of the street, single file."
The rectangular church cupola rose above the small houses.
"Here, gentlemen; there's the Plaza beyond the church.
Just walk a bit further and there's the barracks."
He knelt down, then, imploring them to let him go, but Pancracio, without pausing to reply, struck him across the chest with his rifle and ordered him to proceed.
"How many soldiers are there?"
Luis Cervantes asked.
"I don't want to lie to you, boss, but to tell you the truth, yes, sir, to tell you God's truth, there's a lot of them, a whole lot of 'em."
Luis Cervantes turned around to stare at Demetrio, who feigned momentary deafness.
They were soon in the city square.
A loud volley of rifle shots rang out, deafening them.
Demetrio's horse reared, staggered on its hind legs, bent its forelegs, and fell to the ground, kicking.
The Owl uttered a piercing cry and fell from his horse which rushed madly to the center of the square.
Another volley: the guide threw up his arms and fell on his back without a sound.
With all haste, Anastasio Montanez helped Demetrio up behind him on his horse; the others retreated, seeking shelter along the walls of the houses.
"Hey, men," said a workman sticking his head out of a large door, "go for 'em through the back of the chapel.
They're all in there.
Cut back through this street, then turn to the left; you'll reach an alley.
Keep on going ahead until you hit the chapel."
As he spoke a fresh volley of pistol shots, directed from the neighboring roofs, fell like a rain about them.
"By God," the man said, "those ain't poisonous spiders; they're only townsmen scared of their own shadow.
Come in here until they stop."
"How many of them are there?"
asked Demetrio.
"There were only twelve of them.
But last night they were scared out of their wits so they wired to the town beyond for help.
I don't know how many of them there are now.
Even if there are a hell of a lot of them, it doesn't cut any ice!
Most of them aren't soldiers, you know, but drafted men; if just one of them starts mutinying, the rest will follow like sheep.
My brother was drafted; they've got him there.
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.
The officer in command of the Federals was a young coxcomb of a captain with a waxed mustache and blond hair.
As long as he felt uncertain about the strength of the assailants, he had remained extremely quiet and prudent; but now that they had driven the rebels back without allowing them a chance to fire a single shot, he waxed bold and brave.
While the soldiers did not dare put out their heads beyond the pillars of the building, his own shadow stood against the pale clear dawn, exhibiting his well-built slender body and his officer's cape bellying in the breeze.
"Ha, I remember our coup d'etat!"
His military career had consisted of the single adventure when, together with other students of the Officers' School, he was involved in the treacherous revolt of Feliz Diaz and Huerta against President Madero.
Whenever the slightest insubordination arose, he invariably recalled his feat at the Ciudadela.
"Lieutenant Campos," he ordered emphatically, "take a dozen men and wipe out the bandits hiding there!
The curs!
They're only brave when it comes to guzzling meat and robbing a hencoop!"
A workingman appeared at the small door of the spiral staircase, announcing that the assailants were hidden in a corral where they might easily be captured.
This message came from the citizens keeping watch on housetops.
"I'll go myself and get it over with!"
the officer declared impetuously.
But he soon changed his mind.
Before he had reached the door, he retraced his steps.
"Very likely they are waiting for more men and, of course, it would be wrong for me to abandon my post.
Lieutenant Campos, go there yourself and capture them dead or alive.
We'll shoot them at noon when everybody's coming out of church.
Those bandits will see the example I'll set around here.
But if you can't capture them, Lieutenant, kill them all.
Don't leave a man of them alive, do you understand?"
In high good humor, he began pacing up and down the room, formulating the official despatch he would send off no later than today.
To His Honor the Minister for War, General A. Blanquet, Mexico City.
Sir: I have the honor to inform your Excellency that on the morning of ...
a rebel army, five hundred strong, commanded by ...
attacked this town, which I am charged to defend.
With such speed as the gravity of the situation called for, I fortified my post in the town.
The battle lasted two hours.
Despite the superiority of the enemy in men and equipment, I was able to defeat and rout them.
Their casualties were twenty killed and a far greater number of wounded, judging from the trails of blood they left behind them as they retreated.
I am pleased to state there was no casualty on our side.
I have the honor to congratulate Your Excellency upon this new triumph for the Federal arms.
Viva Presidente Huerta!
Viva Mexico!
"Well," the young captain mused, "I'll be promoted to major."
He clasped his hands together, jubilant.
At this precise moment, a detonation rang out.
His ears buzzed, he--
