l pump you full of lead. And I could track you down, even if you
tried to hide in the pit of hell, see?"

"What do you say, boys?" Demetrio asked them as soon as the old man had
disappeared.

"To hell with the mochos! We'll kill every blasted one of them!" they
cried in unison.

Then they set to counting their cartridges and the hand grenades the
Owl had made out of fragments of iron tubing and metal bed handles.

"Not much to brag about, but we'll soon trade them for rifles,"
Anastasio observed.

Anxiously they pressed forward, spurring the thin flanks of their nags
to a gallop. Demetrio's brisk, imperious tones of order brought them
abruptly to a halt.

They dismounted by the side of a hill, protected by thick huizache
trees. Without unsaddling their horses, each began to search for stones
to serve as pillows.

XVI

At midnight Demetrio Macias ordered the march to be resumed. The town
was five or six miles away; the best plan was to take the soldiers by
surprise, before reveille.

The sky was cloudy, with here and there a star shining. From time to
time a flash of lightning crossed the sky with a red dart, illumining
the far horizon.

Luis Cervantes asked Demetrio whether the success of the attack might
not be better served by procuring a guide or leastways by ascertaining
the topographic conditions of the town and the precise location of the
soldiers' quarters.

"No," Demetrio answered, accompanying his smile with a disdainful
gesture, "we'll simply fall on them when they least expect it; that's
all there is to it, see? We've done it before all right, lots of times!
Haven't you ever seen the squirrels stick their heads out of their
holes when you poured in water? Well, that's how these lousy soldiers
are going to feel. Do you see? They'll be frightened out of their wits
the moment they hear our first shot. Then they'll slink out and stand
as targets for us."

"Suppose the old man we met yesterday lied to us. Suppose there are
fifty soldiers instead of twenty. Who knows but he's a spy sent out by
the Federals!"

"Ha, Tenderfoot, frightened already, eh?" Anastasio Montanez mocked.

"Sure! Handling a rifle and messing about with bandages are two
different things," Pancracio observed.

"Well, that's enough talk, I guess," said Meco. "All we have to do is
fight a dozen frightened rats."

"This fight won't convince our mothers that they gave birth to men or
whatever the hell you like...." Manteca