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Page 32
"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--
XVII
"If we get through the corral, we can make the alley,
eh?" Demetrio asked.
"That's right," the workman answered. "Beyond the
corral there's a house, then another corral, then there's
a store."
Demetrio scratched his head, thoughtfully. This time
his decision was immediate.
"Can you get hold of a crowbar or something like that
to make a hole through the wall?"
"Yes, we'll get anything you want, but . . ."
"But what? Where can we get a crowbar?"
"Everything is right there. But it all belongs to the
boss."
Without further ado, Demetrio strode into the shed
which had been pointed out as the toolhouse.
It was all a matter of a few minutes. Once in the alley,
hugging to the walls, they marched forward in single file
until they reached the rear of the church. Now they had
but a single fence and the rear wall of the chapel to
scale.
"God's will be done!" Demetrio said to himself. He was
the first to clamber over.
Like monkeys the others followed him, reaching the
other side with bleeding, grimy hands. The rest was easy.
The deep worn steps along the stonework made their as-
cent of the chapel wall swifter. The church vault hid
them from the soldiers.
"Wait a moment, will you?" said the workman. "I'll
go and see where my brother is; I'll let you know and then
you'll get at the officers."
But no one paid the slightest attention to him.
For a second, Demetrio glanced at the soldiers' black
coats hanging on the wall, then at his own men, thick on
the church tower behind the iron rail. He smiled with
satisfaction and turning to his men said:
"Come on, now, boys!"
Twenty bombs exploded simultaneously in the midst
of the soldiers who, awaking terrified out of their sleep,
started up, their eyes wide open. But before they had real-
ized their plight, twenty more bombs burst like thunder
upon them leaving a scattering of men killed or maimed.
"Don't do that yet, for God's sake! Don't do it till I
find my brother," the workman implored in anguish.
In vain an old sergeant harangued the soldiers, insult-
ing them in the hope of rallying them. For they were rats,
caught in a trap, no more, no less. Some of the soldiers,
attempting to reach the small door by the staircase, fell
to the ground pierced by Demetrio's shots. Others fell at
the feet of these twenty-odd specters, with faces and
breasts dark as iron, clad in long torn trousers of white
cloth which fell to their leather sandals, scattering death
and destruction below them. In the belfry, a few men
struggled to emerge from the pile of dead who had fallen
upon them.
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