Los de abajo. English

by Mariano Azuela

  VI

  They established themselves in a large gloomy house, which likewisebelonged to the cacique of Moyahua. The previous occupants had alreadyleft strong evidences in the patio, which had been converted into amanure pile. The walls, once whitewashed, were now faded and cracked,revealing the bare unbaked adobe; the floor had been torn up by thehoofs of animals; the orchard was littered with rotted branches anddead leaves. From the entrance one stumbled over broken bits of chairsand other furniture covered with dirt.

  By ten o'clock, Luis Cervantes yawned with boredom, said good night toBlondie and War Paint, who were downing endless drinks on a bench inthe square, and made for the barracks. The drawing room was alonefurnished. As he entered, Demetrio, lying on the floor with his eyeswide open, trying to count the beams, gazed at him.

  "It's you, eh? What's new? Come on, sit down."

  Luis Cervantes first went over to trim the candle, then drew up a chairwithout a back, a coarse rag doing the duty of a wicker bottom. Thelegs of the chair squeaked. War Paint's black horse snorted and whirledits crupper in wide circles. Luis Cervantes sank into his seat.

  "General, I wish to make my report. Here you have ..."

  "Look here, man, I didn't really want this done, you know. Moyahua isalmost like my native town. They'll say this is why we've beenfighting!" Demetrio said, looking at the bulging sack of silverCervantes was passing to him. Cervantes left his seat to squat down byDemetrio's side.

  He stretched a blanket over the floor and into it poured the ten-pesopieces, shining, burning gold.

  "First of all, General, only you and I know about this.... Secondly,you know well enough that if the sun shines, you should open thewindow. It's shining in our faces now but what about tomorrow? Youshould always look ahead. A bullet, a bolting horse, even a wretchedcold in the head, and then there are a widow and orphans left inabsolute want! ... The Government? Ha! Ha! ... Just go see Carranza orVilla or any of the big chiefs and try and tell them about yourfamily.... If they answer with a kick you know where, they'll saythey're giving you a handful of jewels. And they're right; we did notrise up in arms to make some Carranza or Villa President of ourRepublic. No--we fought to defend the sacred rights of the peopleagainst the tyranny of some vile cacique. And so, just as Villa orCarranza aren't going to ask our consent to the payment they're gettingfor the services they're rendering the country, we for our part don'thave to ask anybody's permission about anything either."

  Demetrio half stood up, grasped a bottle that stood nearby, drained it,then spat out the liquor, swelling out his cheeks.

  "By God, my boy, you've certainly got the gift of gab!"

  Luis felt dizzy, faint. The spattered beer seemed to intensify thestench of the refuse on which they sat; a carpet of orange and bananapeels, fleshlike slices of watermelon, moldy masses of mangoes andsugarcane, all mixed up with cornhusks from tamales and human offal.

  Demetrio's calloused hands shuffled through the brilliant coins,counting and counting. Recovering from his nausea, Luis Cervantespulled out a small box of Fallieres phosphate and poured forth rings,brooches, pendants, and countless valuable jewels.

  "Look here, General, if this mess doesn't blow over (and it doesn'tlook as though it would), if the revolution keeps on, there's enoughhere already for us to live on abroad quite comfortably."

  Demetrio shook his bead.

  "You wouldn't do that!"

  "Why not? What are we staying on for? ... What cause are we defendingnow?"

  "That's something I can't explain, Tenderfoot. But I'm thinking itwouldn't show much guts."

  "Take your choice, General," said Luis Cervantes, pointing to thejewels which he had set in a row.

  "Oh, you keep it all.... Certainly! ... You know, I don't really carefor money at all. I'll tell you the truth! I'm the happiest man in theworld, so long as there's always something to drink and a nice littlewench that catches my eye...."

  "Ha! Ha! You make the funniest jokes, General. Why do you stand forthat snake of a War Paint, then?"

  "I'll tell you, Tenderfoot, I'm fed up with her. But I'm like that: Ijust can't tell her so. I'm not brave enough to tell her to go plumb tohell. That's the way I am, see? When I like a woman, I get plain silly;and if she doesn't start something, I've not got the courage to doanything myself." He sighed. "There's Camilla at the ranch forinstance.... Now, she's not much on looks, I know, but there's a womanI'd like to have......."

  "Well, General, we'll go and get her any day you like."

  Demetrio winked maliciously.

  "I promise you I'll do it."

  "Are you sure? Do you really mean it? Look here, if you pull that offfor me, I'll give you the watch and chain you're hankering after."

  Luis Cervantes' eyes shone. He took the phosphate box, heavy with itscontents, and stood up smiling.

  "I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "Good night, General! Sleep well."

  VII

  "I don't know any more about it than you do. The General told me,'Quail, saddle your horse and my black mare and follow Cervantes; he'sgoing on an errand for me.' Well, that's what happened. We left here atnoon, and reached the ranch early that evening. One-eyed Maria Antoniatook us in.... She asked after you, Pancracio. Next morning LuisCervantes wakes me up. 'Quail, Quail, saddle the horses. Leave me minebut take the General's mare back to Moyahua. I'll catch up after abit.' The sun was high when he arrived with Camilla. She got off and westuck her on the General's mare."

  "Well, and her? What sort of a face did she make coming back?" one ofthe men inquired.

  "Hum! She was so damned happy she was gabbing all the way."

  "And the tenderfoot?"

  "Just as quiet as he always is, you know him."

  "I think," Venancio expressed his opinion with great seriousness, "thatif Camilla woke up in the General's bed, it was just a mistake. Wedrank a lot, remember! That alcohol went to our heads; we must havelost our senses."

  "What the hell do you mean: alcohol! It was all cooked up betweenCervantes and the General."

  "Certainly! That city dude's nothing but a ..."

  "I don't like to talk about friends behind their backs," said Blondie,"but I can tell you this: one of the two sweethearts he had, one wasmine, and the other was for the General."

  They burst into guffaws of laughter.

  When War Paint realized what had happened, she sought out Camilla andspoke with great affection:

  "Poor little child! Tell me how all this happened."

  Camilla's eyes were red from weeping.

  "He lied to me! He lied! He came to the ranch and he told me, 'Camilla,I came just to get you. Do you want to go away with me?' You can besure I wanted to go with him; when it comes to loving, I adore him.Yes, I adore him. Look how thin I've grown just pining away for him.Mornings I used to loathe to grind corn, Mamma would call me to eat,and anything I put in my mouth had no taste at all."

  Once more she burst into tears, stuffing the corner of her apron intoher mouth to drown her sobs.

  "Look here, I'll help you out of this mess. Don't be silly, child,don't cry. Don't think about the dude any more! Honest to God, he's notworth it. You surely know his game, dear? ... That's the only reasonwhy the General stands for him. What a goose! ... All right, you wantto go back home?"

  "The Holy Virgin protect me. My mother would beat me to death!"

  "She'll do nothing of the sort. You and I can fix things. Listen! Thesoldiers are leaving any moment now. When Demetrio tells you to getready, you tell him you feel pains all over your body as though someonehad hit you; then you lie down and start yawning and shivering. Thenput your hand on your forehead and say, 'I'm burning up with fever.'I'll tell Demetrio to leave us both here, that I'll stay to take careof you, that as soon as you're feeling all right again, we'll catch upwith them. But instead of that, I'll see that you get home safe andsound."

  VIII

  The sun had set, the town was lost in the drab melancholy of itsancient streets amid the frightened silenc
e of its inhabitants, who hadretired very early, when Luis Cervantes reached Primitivo's generalstore, his arrival interrupting a party that promised great doings.

  Demetrio was engaged in getting drunk with his old comrades. The entirespace before the bar was occupied. War Paint and Blondie had tied uptheir horses outside; but the other officers had stormed in brutally,horses and all. Embroidered hats with enormous and concave brims bobbedup and down everywhere. The horses wheeled about, prancing; tossingtheir restive heads; their fine breed showing in their black eyes,their small ears and dilating nostrils. Over the infernal din of thedrunkards, the heavy breathing of the horses, the stamp of their hoofson the tiled floor, and occasionally a quick, nervous whinny rang out.

  A trivial episode was being commented upon when Luis Cervantes came in.A man, dressed in civilian clothes, with a round, black, bloody hole inhis forehead, lay stretched out in the middle of the street, his mouthgaping. Opinion was at first divided but finally all concurred withBlondie's sound reasoning. The poor dead devil lying out there was thechurch sexton.... But what an idiot! His own fault, of course! Who inthe name of hell could be so foolish as to dress like a city dude, withtrousers, coat, cap, and all? Pancracio simply could not bear the sightof a city man in front of him! And that was that!

  Eight musicians, playing wind instruments, interrupted their labors atCervantes' command. Their faces were round and red as suns, their eyespopping, for they had been blowing on their brass instruments sincedawn.

  "General," Luis said pushing his way through the men on horseback, "amessenger has arrived with orders to proceed immediately to the pursuitand capture of Orozco and his men."

  Faces that had been dark and gloomy were now illumined with joy.

  "To Jalisco, boys!" cried Blondie, pounding on the counter.

  "Make ready, all you darling Jalisco girls of my heart, for I'm comingalong too!" Quail shouted, twisting back the brim of his hat.

  The enthusiasm and rejoicing were general. Demetrio's friends, in theexcitement of drunkenness, offered their services. Demetrio was sohappy that he could scarcely speak. They were going to fight Orozco andhis men! At last, they would pit themselves against real men! At lastthey would stop shooting down the Federals like so many rabbits or wildturkeys.

  "If I could get hold of Orozco alive," Blondie said, "I'd rip off thesoles of his feet and make him walk twenty-four hours over the sierra!"

  "Was that the guy who killed Madero?" asked Meco.

  "No," Blondie replied solemnly, "but once when I was a waiter at 'ElMonico,' up in Chihuahua, he hit me in the face!"

  "Give Camilla the roan mare," Demetrio ordered Pancracio, who wasalready saddling the horses.

  "Camilla can't go!" said War Paint promptly.

  "Who in hell asked for your opinion?" Demetrio retorted angrily.

  "It's true, isn't it, Camilla? You were sore all over, weren't you? Andyou've got a fever right now?"

  "Well--anything Demetrio says."

  "Don't be a fool! say 'No,' come on, say 'No,"' War Paint whisperednervously into Camilla's ear.

  "I'll tell you, War Paint.... It's funny, but I'm beginning to fall forhim.... Would you believe it!" Camilla whispered back.

  War Paint turned purple, her cheeks swelled. Without a word she wentout to get her horse that Blondie was saddling.

  IX

  A whirlwind of dust, scorching down the road, suddenly broke intoviolent diffuse masses; and Demetrio's army emerged, a chaos of horses,broad chests, tangled manes, dilated nostrils, oval, wide eyes, hoofsflying in the air, legs stiffened from endless galloping; and of menwith bronze faces, ivory teeth, and flashing eyes, their rifles intheir hands or slung across the saddles.

  Demetrio and Camilla brought up the rear. She was still nervous,white-lipped and parched; he was angry at their futile maneuver. Forthere had been battles, no followers of Orozco's to be seen. A handfulof Federals, routed. A poor devil of a priest left dangling from amesquite; a few dead, scattered over the field, who had once beenunited under the archaic slogan, RIGHTS AND RELIGION, with, on theirbreasts, the red cloth insignia: Halt! The Sacred Heart of Jesus iswith me!

  "One good thing about it is that I've collected all my back pay," Quailsaid, exhibiting some gold watches and rings stolen from the priest'shouse.

  "It's fun fighting this way," Manteca cried, spicing every other wordwith an oath. "You know why the hell you're risking your hide."

  In the same hand with which he held the reins, he clutched a shiningornament that he had torn from one of the holy statues.

  After Quail, an expert in such matters, had examined Manteca's treasurecovetously, he uttered a solemn guffaw.

  "Hell, Your ornament is nothing but tin!"

  "Why in hell are you hanging on to that poison?" Pancracio askedBlondie who appeared dragging a prisoner.

  "Do you want to know why? Because it's a long time since I've had agood look at a man's face when a rope tightens around his neck!"

  The fat prisoner breathed with difficulty as he followed Blondie onfoot; his face was sunburnt, his eyes red; his forehead beaded withsweat, his wrists tightly bound together.

  "Here, Anastasio, lend me your lasso. Mine's not strong enough; thisbird will bust it. No, by God, I've changed my mind, friend Federal:think I'll kill you on the spot, because you are pulling too hard.Look, all the mesquites are still a long way off and there are notelegraph poles to hang you to!"

  Blondie pulled his gun out, pressed the muzzle against the prisoner'schest and brought his finger against the trigger slowly ... slowly....The prisoner turned pale as a corpse; his face lengthened; his eyelidswere fixed in a glassy stare. He breathed in agony, his whole bodyshook as with ague. Blondie kept his gun in the same position for amoment long as all eternity. His eyes shone queerly. An expression ofsupreme pleasure lit up his fat puffy face.

  "No, friend Federal," he drawled, putting back his gun into theholster; "I'm not going to kill you just yet.... I'll make you myorderly. You'll see that I'm not so hardhearted!"

  Slyly he winked at his companions. The prisoner had turned into ananimal; he gulped, panting, dry-mouthed. Camilla, who had witnessed thescene, spurred her horse and caught up with Demetrio.

  "What a brute that Blondie is: you ought to see what he did to awretched prisoner," she said. Then she told Demetrio what had occurred.The latter wrinkled his brow but made no answer.

  War Paint called Camilla aside.

  "Hey you ... what are you gobbling about? Blondie's my man, understand?From now on, you know how things are: whatever you've got against himyou've got against me too! I'm warning you."

  Camilla, frightened, hurried back to Demetrio's side.

  X

  The men camped in a meadow, near three small lone houses standing in arow, their white walls cutting the purple fringe of the horizon.Demetrio and Camilla rode toward them. Inside the corral a man, clad inshirt and trousers of cheap white cloth, sat greedily puffing at acornhusk cigarette. Another man sitting beside him on a flat cut stonewas shelling corn. Kicking the air with one dry, withered leg, theextremity of which was like a goat's hoof, he frightened the chickensaway.

  "Hurry up, 'Pifanio," said the man who was smoking, "the sun has gonedown already and you haven't taken the animals to water."

  A horse neighed outside the corral; both men glanced up in amazement.Demetrio and Camilla were looking over the corral wall at them.

  "I just want a place to sleep for my woman and me," Demetrio saidreassuringly.

  As he explained that he was the chief of a small army which was to campnearby that night, the man smoking, who owned the place, bid them enterwith great deference. He ran to fetch a broom and a pail of water todust and wash the best corner of the hut as decent lodging for hisdistinguished guests.

  "Here, 'Pifanio, go out there and unsaddle the horses."

  The man who was shelling corn stood up with an effort. He was clad in atattered shirt and vest. His torn trousers, split at the seam, lookedlike the wings o
f a cold, stricken bird; two strings of cloth dangledfrom his waist. As he walked, he described grotesque circles.

  "Surely you're not fit to do any work!" Demetrio said, refusing toallow him to touch the saddles.

  "Poor man," the owner cried from within the hut, "he's lost all hisstrength.... But he surely works for his pay.... He starts working theminute God Almighty himself gets up, and it's after sundown now buthe's working still!"

  Demetrio went out with Camilla for a stroll about the encampment. Themeadow, golden, furrowed, stripped even of the smallest bushes,extended limitless in its immense desolation. The three tall ash treeswhich stood in front of the small house, with dark green crests, roundand waving, with rich foliage and branches drooping to the very ground,seemed a veritable miracle.

  "I don't know why but I feel there's a lot of sadness around here,"said Demetrio.

  "Yes," Camilla answered, "I feel that way too."

  On the bank of a small stream, 'Pifanio was strenuously tugging at arope with a large can tied to the end of it. He poured a stream ofwater over a heap of fresh, cool grass; in the twilight, the waterglimmered like crystal. A thin cow, a scrawny nag, and a burro dranknoisily together.

  Demetrio recognized the limping servant and asked him: "How much do youget a day?"

  "Eight cents a day, boss."

  He was an insignificant, scrofulous wraith of a man with green eyes andstraight, fair hair. He whined complaint of his boss, the ranch, hisbad luck, his dog's life.