story. But Fortunata's
wealth of detail by the time she had told half of it bored Quail and he
left the hut to scratch himself out in the sun. By the time Fortunata
had at last concluded with a solemn "I pray God and the Blessed Virgin
Mary that you are not sparing the life of a single one of those
Federals from hell," Demetrio, face to wall, felt greatly relieved by
the stomach cure, and was busy thinking of the best route by which to
proceed to Durango. Anastasio Montanez was snoring like a trombone.

X

"Why don't you call in the tenderfoot to treat you, Compadre Demetrio,"
Anastasio Montanez asked his chief, who had been complaining daily of
chills and fever. "You ought to see him; no one has laid a hand to him
but himself, and now he's so fit that he doesn't limp a step."

But Venancio, standing by with his tins of lard and his dirty string
rags ready, protested:

"All right, if anybody lays a hand on Demetrio, I won't be responsible."

"Nonsense! Rot! What kind of doctor do you think you are? You're no
doctor at all. I'll wager you've already forgotten why you ever joined
us," said Quail.

"Well, I remember why you joined us, Quail," Venancio replied angrily.
"Perhaps you'll deny it was because you had stolen a watch and some
diamond rings."

"Ha, ha, ha! That's rich! But you're worse, my lad; you ran away from
your hometown because you poisoned your sweetheart."

"You're a Goddamned liar!"

"Yes you did! And don't try and deny it! You fed her Spanish fly and..."

Venancio's shout of protest was drowned out in the loud laughter of the
others. Demetrio, looking pale and sallow, motioned for silence. Then,
plaintively:

"That'll do. Bring in the student."

Luis Cervantes entered. He uncovered Demetrio's wound, examined it
carefully, and shook his head. The ligaments had made a furrow in the
skin. The leg, badly swollen, seemed about to burst. At every move he
made, Demetrio stifled a moan. Luis Cervantes cut the ligaments, soaked
the wound in water, covered the leg with large clean rags and bound it
up. Demetrio was able to sleep all afternoon and all night. On the
morrow he woke up happy.

"That tenderfoot has the softest hand in the world!" he said.

Quickly Venancio cut in:

"All right; just as you say. But don't forget that tenderfoots are like
moisture, they seep in everywhere. It's the tenderfoots who stopped us
reaping the harvest of the revolution."

Since Demetrio believed in the b