rail us. That cacique who's chased and run me ragged over these hills,
is at Mohayua now; he'd give his eyeteeth to see me dangling from a
telegraph pole with my tongue hanging out of my mouth, purple and
swollen...."

At dawn, he approached the pit of the canyon. Here, he lay on the rocks
and fell asleep.

The river crept along, murmuring as the waters rose and fell in small
cascades. Birds sang lyrically from their hiding among the pitaya
trees. The monotonous, eternal drone of insects filled the rocky
solitude with mystery.

Demetrio awoke with a start. He waded the river, following its course
which ran counter to the canyon; he climbed the crags laboriously as an
ant, gripping root and rock with his hands, clutching every stone in
the trail with his bare feet.

When he reached the summit, he glanced down to see the sun steeping the
valley in a lake of gold. Near the canyon, enormous rocks loomed
protrudent, like fantastic Negro skulls. The pitaya trees rose tenuous,
tall, like the tapering, gnarled fingers of a giant; other trees of all
sorts bowed their crests toward the pit of the abyss. Amid the stark
rocks and dry branches, roses bloomed like a white offering to the sun
as smoothly, suavely, it unraveled its golden threads, one by one, from
rock to rock.

Demetrio stopped at the summit. Reaching backward, with his right arm
he drew his horn which hung at his back, held it up to his thick lips,
and, swelling his cheeks out, blew three loud blasts. From across the
hill close by, three sharp whistles answered his signal.

In the distance, from a conical heap of reeds and dry straws, man after
man emerged, one after the other, their legs and chests naked, lambent
and dark as old bronze. They rushed forward to greet Demetrio, and
stopped before him, askance.

"They've burnt my house," he said.

A murmur of oaths, imprecations, and threats rose among them.

Demetrio let their anger run its course. Then he drew a bottle from
under his shirt and took a deep swig; then he wiped the neck of the
bottle with the back of his hand and passed it around. It passed from
mouth to mouth; not a drop was left. The men passed their tongues
greedily over their lips to recapture the tang of the liquor.

"Glory be to God and by His Will," said Demetrio, "tonight or tomorrow
at the latest we'll meet the Federals. What do you say, boys, shall we
let them find their way about these trails?"

The ragged crew jumped to their fe