ile retained its
repulsive immutability.

The soldiers had retreated; Demetrio began the search for the soldiers'
horses which had been hidden in the sierra.

Suddenly Quail, who had been walking ahead, shrieked. He had caught
sight of his companions swinging from the branches of a mesquite. There
could be no doubt of their identity; Serapio and Antonio they certainly
were. Anastasio Montanez prayed brokenly.

"Our Father Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom
come..."

"Amen," his men answered in low tones, their heads bowed, their hats
upon their breasts....

Then, hurriedly, they took the Juchipila canyon northward, without
halting to rest until nightfall.

Quail kept walking close to Anastasio unable to banish from his mind
the two who were hanged, their dislocated limp necks, their dangling
legs, their arms pendulous, and their bodies moving slowly in the wind.

On the morrow, Demetrio complained bitterly of his wound; he could no
longer ride on horseback. They were forced to carry him the rest of the
way on a makeshift stretcher of leaves and branches.

"He's bleeding frightfully," said Anastasio Montanez, tearing off one
of his shirt-sleeves and tying it tightly about Demetrio's thigh, a
little above the wound.

"That's good," said Venancio. "It'll keep him from bleeding and stop
the pain."

Venancio was a barber. In his native town, he pulled teeth and
fulfilled the office of medicine man. He was accorded an unimpeachable
authority because he had read The Wandering Jew and one or two other
books. They called him "Doctor"; and since he was conceited about his
knowledge, he employed very few words.

They took turns, carrying the stretcher in relays of four over the bare
stony mesa and up the steep passes.

At high noon, when the reflection of the sun on the calcareous soil
burned their shoulders and made the landscape dimly waver before their
eyes, the monotonous, rhythmical moan of the wounded rose in unison
with the ceaseless cry of the locusts. They stopped to rest at every
small hut they found hidden between the steep, jagged rocks.

"Thank God, a kind soul and tortillas full of beans and chili are never
lacking," Anastasio Montanez said with a triumphant belch.

The mountaineers would shake calloused hands with the travelers, saying:

"God's blessing on you! He will find a way to help you all, never fear.
We're going ourselves, starting tomorrow morning. We're dodging the
dra