n't say, Panchita?"

The three old women came together forming an animated group, and
speaking in low tones, began to gossip with great gusto.

"Certainly, I swear it, by God up there in heaven."

"Well, well, I was the first one to say that Marcelina was big with
child, wasn't I? But of course no one would believe me."

"Poor girl. It's going to be terrible if the kid is her uncle's, you
know!"

"God forbid!"

"Of course it's not her uncle: Nazario had nothing to do with it, I
know. It was them damned soldiers, that's who done it."

"God, what a bloody mess! Another unhappy woman!"

The cackle of the old hens finally awakened Demetrio. They kept silent
for a moment; then Panchita, taking out of the bosom of her blouse a
young pigeon which opened its beak in suffocation, said:

"To tell you the truth, I brought this medicine for the gentleman here,
but they say he's got a doctor, so I suppose--"

"That makes no difference, Panchita, that's no medicine anyhow, it's
simply something to rub on his body."

"Forgive this poor gift from a poor woman, senor," said the wrinkled
old woman, drawing close to Demetrio, "but there's nothing like it in
the world for hemorrhages and suchlike."

Demetrio nodded hasty approval. They had already placed a loaf of bread
soaked in alcohol on his stomach; although when this was removed he
began to be cooler, he felt that he was still feverish inside.

"Come on, Remigia, you do it, you certainly know how," the women said.

Out of a reed sheath, Remigia pulled a long and curved knife which
served to cut cactus fruit. She took the pigeon in one hand, turned it
over, its breast upward, and with the skill of a surgeon, ripped it in
two with a single thrust.

"In the name of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Remigia said, blessing the
room and making the sign of the cross; next, with infinite dexterity,
she placed the warm bleeding portions of the pigeon upon Demetrio's
abdomen.

"You'll see: you'll feel much better now."

Obeying Remigia's instructions, Demetrio lay motionless, crumpled up on
one side.

Then Fortunata gave vent to her sorrows. She liked these gentlemen of
the revolution, all right, that she did--for, three months ago, you
know, the Government soldiers had run away with her only daughter. This
had broken her heart, Yes, and driven her all but crazy.

As she began, Anastasio Montanez and Quail lay on the floor near the
stretcher, their mouths gaping, all ears to the