|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 17
Camilla continued to cross-question him with such fa-
miliarity that she suddenly found herself addressing him
intimately, in the singular tu. Absorbed in his own
thoughts, Luis Cervantes had ceased listening to her.
He thought:
Where are those men on Pancho Villa's payroll, so
admirably equipped and mounted, who only get paid in
those pure silver pieces Villa coins at the Chihuahua
mint? Bah! Barely two dozen half-naked mangy men,
some of them riding decrepit mares with the coat
nibbled off from neck to withers. Can the accounts
given by the Government newspapers and by myself be
really true and are these so-called revolutionists simply
bandits grouped together, using the revolution as a won-
derful pretext to glut their thirst for gold and blood?
Is it all a lie, then? Were their sympathizers talking a
lot of exalted nonsense?
If on one hand the Government newspapers vied
with each other in noisy proclamation of Federal victory
after victory, why then had a paymaster on his way
from Guadalajara started the rumor that President
Huerta's friends and relatives were abandoning the capi-
tal and scuttling away to the nearest port? Was
Huerta's, "I shall have peace, at no matter what cost,"
a meaningless growl? Well, it looked as though the
revolutionists or bandits, call them what you will, were
going to depose the Government. Tomorrow would there-
fore belong wholly to them. A man must consequently
be on their side, only on their side.
"No," he said to himself almost aloud, "I don't think
I've made a mistake this time."
"What did you say?" Camilla asked. "I thought you'd
lost your tongue. . . . I thought the mice had eaten it
up!"
Luis Cervantes frowned and cast a hostile glance at
this little plump monkey with her bronzed complexion,
her ivory teeth, and her thick square toes.
"Look here, Tenderfoot, you know how to tell fairy
stories, don't you?"
For all answer, Luis made an impatient gesture and
moved off, the girl's ecstatic glance following his re-
treating figure until it was lost on the river path. So
profound was her absorption that she shuddered in nerv-
ous surprise as she heard the voice of her neighbor, one-
eyed Maria Antonia, who had been spying from her hut,
shouting:
"Hey, you there: give him some love powder. Then
he might fall for you."
"That's what you'd do, all right!"
"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, you're quite wrong!
Faugh! I despise a tenderfoot, and don't forget it!
Ho there, Remigia, lend me some eggs, will you? My
chicken has been hatching since morning. There's some
gentlemen here, come to eat."
Her neighbor's eyes blinked as the bright sunlight
poured into the shadowy hut, darker than usual, even,
as dense clouds of smoke rose from the stove. After a
few minutes, she began to make out the contour of the
various objects inside, and recognized the wounded man's
stretcher, which lay in one corner, close to the ashy-
gray galvanized iron roof.
She sat down beside Remigia Indian-fashion, and,
glancing furtively toward where Demetrio rested, asked
in a low voice:
"How's the patient, better? That's fine. Oh, how young
he is! But he's still pale, don't you think? So the wound's
not closed up yet. Well, Remigia, don't you think we'd
better try and do something about it?"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|