Los de abajo. English, Page 3

  The girl who had offered him water the day before, the girl of whom hehad dreamed all night long, now came forward, kindly and eager as ever.This time she carried a pitcher of milk brimming over with foam.

  "It's goat's milk, but fine just the same. Come on now: taste it."

  Demetrio smiled gratefully, straightened up, grasped the clay pitcher,and proceeded to drink the milk in little gulps, without removing hiseyes from the girl. She grew self-conscious, lowered her eyes.

  "What's your name?" he asked.

  "Camilla."

  "Ah, there's a lovely name! And the girl that bears it, lovelier still!"

  Camilla blushed. As he sought to seize her wrist, she grew frightened,and Picking up the empty pitcher, flew out the door.

  "No, Demetrio," Anastasio Montanez commented gravely, "you've got tobreak them in first. Hmm! It's a hell of a lot of scars the women haveleft on my body. Yes, my friend, I've a heap of experience along thatline."

  "I feel all right now, Compadre." Demetrio pretended he had not heardhim. "I had fever, and I sweated like a horse all night, but I feelquite fresh today. The thing that's irking me hellishly is that Goddamnwound. Can Venancio to look after me."

  "What are we going to do with the tenderfoot we caught last night?"Pancracio asked.

  "That's right: I was forgetting all about him."

  As usual, Demetrio hesitated a while before he reached a decision.

  "Here, Quail, come here. Listen: you go and find out where's thenearest church around here. I know there's one about six miles away. Goand steal a priest's robe and bring it back."

  "What's the idea?" asked Pancracio in surprise.

  "Well, I'll soon find out if this tenderfoot came here to murder me.I'll tell him he's to be shot, see, and Quail will put on the priest'srobes, say that he's a priest and hear his confession. If he's gotanything up his sleeve, he'll come out with it, and then I'll shoothim. Otherwise I'll let him go."

  "God, there's a roundabout way to tackle the question. If I were you,I'd just shoot him and let it go at that," said Pancraciocontemptuously.

  That night Quail returned with the priest's robes; Demetrio ordered theprisoner to be led in. Luis Cervantes had not eaten or slept for twodays, there were deep black circles under his eyes; his face wasdeathly pale, his lips dry and colorless. He spoke awkwardly, slowly:"You can do as you please with me.... I am convinced I was wrong tocome looking for you."

  There was a prolonged silence. Then:

  "I thought that you would welcome a man who comes to offer his help,with open arms, even though his help was quite worthless. After all,you might perhaps have found some use for it. What, in heaven's name,do I stand to gain, whether the revolution wins or loses?"

  Little by little he grew more animated; at times the languor in hiseyes disappeared.

  "The revolution benefits the poor, the ignorant, all those who havebeen slaves all their lives, all the unhappy people who do not evensuspect they are poor because the rich who stand above them, the richwho rule them, change their sweat and blood and tears into gold..."

  "Well, what the hell is the gist of all this palaver? I'll be damned ifI can stomach a sermon," Pancracio broke in.

  "I wanted to fight for the sacred cause of the oppressed, but you don'tunderstand ... you cast me aside.... Very well, then, you can do as youplease with me!"

  "All I'm going to do now is to put this rope around your neck. Lookwhat a pretty white neck you've got."

  "Yes, I know what brought you here," Demetrio interrupted dryly,scratching his head. "I'm going to have you shot!"

  Then, looking at Anastasio he said:

  "Take him away. And ... if he wants to confess, bring the priest tohim."

  Impassive as ever, Anastasio took the prisoner gently by the arm.

  "Come along this way, Tenderfoot."

  They all laughed uproariously, when a few minutes later, Quail appearedin priestly robes.

  "By God, this tenderfoot certainly talks his head off," Quail said."You know, I've a notion he was having a bit of a laugh on me when Istarted asking him questions."

  "But didn't he have anything to say?"

  "Nothing, save what he said last night."

  "I've a hunch he didn't come here to shoot you at all, Compadre," saidAnastasio.

  "Give him something to eat and guard him."

  VIII

  On the morrow, Luis Cervantes was barely able to get up. His injuredleg trailing behind him, he shuffled from hut to hut in search of alittle alcohol, a kettle of boiled water and some rags. With unfailingkindness, Camilla provided him with all that he wanted.

  As he began washing his foot, she sat beside him, and, with typicalmountaineer's curiosity, inquired:

  "Tell me, who learned you how to cure people? Why did you boil thatwater? Why did you boil the rags? Look, look, how careful you are abouteverything! And what did you put on your hands? Really.... And why didyou pour on alcohol? I just knew alcohol was good to rub on when youhad a bellyache, but ... Oh, I see! So you was going to be a doctor,huh? Ha, ha, that's a good one! Why don't you mix it with cold water?Well, there's a funny sort of a trick. Oh, stop fooling me ... theidea: little animals alive in the water unless you boil it! Ugh! Well,I can't see nothing in it myself."

  Camilla continued to cross-question him with such familiarity that shesuddenly found herself addressing him intimately, in the singular tu.Absorbed in his own thoughts, Luis Cervantes had ceased listening toher. He thought:

  Where are those men on Pancho Villa's payroll, so admirably equippedand mounted, who only get paid in those pure silver pieces Villa coinsat the Chihuahua mint? Bah! Barely two dozen half-naked mangy men, someof them riding decrepit mares with the coat nibbled off from neck towithers. Can the accounts given by the Government newspapers and bymyself be really true and are these so-called revolutionists simplybandits grouped together, using the revolution as a wonderful pretextto glut their thirst for gold and blood? Is it all a lie, then? Weretheir sympathizers talking a lot of exalted nonsense?

  If on one hand the Government newspapers vied with each other in noisyproclamation of Federal victory after victory, why then had a paymasteron his way from Guadalajara started the rumor that President Huerta'sfriends and relatives were abandoning the capital and scuttling away tothe nearest port? Was Huerta's, "I shall have peace, at no matter whatcost," a meaningless growl? Well, it looked as though therevolutionists or bandits, call them what you will, were going todepose the Government. Tomorrow would therefore belong wholly to them.A man must consequently be on their side, only on their side.

  "No," he said to himself almost aloud, "I don't think I've made amistake this time."

  "What did you say?" Camilla asked. "I thought you'd lost yourtongue.... I thought the mice had eaten it up!"

  Luis Cervantes frowned and cast a hostile glance at this little plumpmonkey with her bronzed complexion, her ivory teeth, and her thicksquare toes.

  "Look here, Tenderfoot, you know how to tell fairy stories, don't you?"

  For all answer, Luis made an impatient gesture and moved off, thegirl's ecstatic glance following his retreating figure until it waslost on the river path. So profound was her absorption that sheshuddered in nervous surprise as she heard the voice of her neighbor,one-eyed Maria Antonia, who had been spying from her hut, shouting:

  "Hey, you there: give him some love powder. Then he might fall for you."

  "That's what you'd do, all right!"

  "Oh, you think so, do you? Well, you're quite wrong! Faugh! I despise atenderfoot, and don't forget it!

  IX

  Ho there, Remigia, lend me some eggs, will you? My chicken has beenhatching since morning. There's some gentlemen here, come to eat."

  Her neighbor's eyes blinked as the bright sunlight poured into theshadowy hut, darker than usual, even, as dense clouds of smoke rosefrom the stove. After a few minutes, she began to make out the contourof the various objects inside, and recognized the wounded man'sstretcher, whic
h lay in one corner, close to the ashy-gray galvanizediron roof.

  She sat down beside Remigia Indian-fashion, and, glancing furtivelytoward where Demetrio rested, asked in a low voice:

  "How's the patient, better? That's fine. Oh, how young he is! But he'sstill pale, don't you think? So the wound's not closed up yet. Well,Remigia, don't you think we'd better try and do something about it?"

  Remigia, naked from the waist up, stretched her thin muscular arms overthe corn grinder, pounding the corn with a stone bar she held in herhands.

  "Oh, I don't know; they might not like it," she answered, breathingheavily as she continued her rude task. "They've got their own doctor,you know, so--"

  "Hallo, there, Remigia," another neighbor said as she came in, bowingher bony back to pass through the opening, "haven't you any laurelleaves? We want to make a potion for Maria Antonia who's not so welltoday, what with her bellyache."

  In reality, her errand was but a pretext for asking questions andpassing the time of day in gossip, so she turned her eyes to thecorner where the patient lay and, winking, sought information as to hishealth.

  Remigia lowered her eyes to indicate that Demetrio was sleeping.

  "Oh, I didn't see you when I came in. And you're here too, Panchita?Well, how are you?"

  "Good morning to you, Fortunata. How are you?"

  "All right. But Maria Antonia's got the curse today and her belly'saching something fierce."

  She sat Indian-fashion, with bent knees, huddling hip to hip againstPanchita.

  "I've got no laurel leaves, honey," Remigia answered, pausing a momentin her work to push a mop of hair back from over her sweaty forehead.Then, plunging her two hands into a mass of corn, she removed a handfulof it dripping with muddy yellowish water. "I've none at all; you'dbetter go to Dolores, she's always got herbs, you know."

  "But Dolores went to Cofradia last night. I don't know, but they saythey came to fetch her to help Uncle Matias' girl who's big with child."

  "You don't say, Panchita?"

  The three old women came together forming an animated group, andspeaking 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 withchild, 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, youknow!"

  "God forbid!"

  "Of course it's not her uncle: Nazario had nothing to do with it, Iknow. 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 silentfor a moment; then Panchita, taking out of the bosom of her blouse ayoung 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'ssimply something to rub on his body."

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

  Demetrio nodded hasty approval. They had already placed a loaf of breadsoaked in alcohol on his stomach; although when this was removed hebegan 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 whichserved to cut cactus fruit. She took the pigeon in one hand, turned itover, its breast upward, and with the skill of a surgeon, ripped it intwo with a single thrust.

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

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

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

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

  As she began, Anastasio Montanez and Quail lay on the floor near thestretcher, their mouths gaping, all ears to the story. But Fortunata'swealth of detail by the time she had told half of it bored Quail and heleft the hut to scratch himself out in the sun. By the time Fortunatahad at last concluded with a solemn "I pray God and the Blessed VirginMary that you are not sparing the life of a single one of thoseFederals from hell," Demetrio, face to wall, felt greatly relieved bythe stomach cure, and was busy thinking of the best route by which toproceed 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 ofchills and fever. "You ought to see him; no one has laid a hand to himbut 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 stringrags 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 nodoctor at all. I'll wager you've already forgotten why you ever joinedus," 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 somediamond rings."

  "Ha, ha, ha! That's rich! But you're worse, my lad; you ran away fromyour 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 theothers. 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 itcarefully, and shook his head. The ligaments had made a furrow in theskin. The leg, badly swollen, seemed about to burst. At every move hemade, Demetrio stifled a moan. Luis Cervantes cut the ligaments, soakedthe wound in water, covered the leg with large clean rags and bound itup. Demetrio was able to sleep all afternoon and all night. On themorrow 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 likemoisture, they seep in everywhere. It's the tenderfoots who stopped usreaping the harvest of the revolution."

  Since Demetrio believed in the barber's knowledge implicitly, when LuisCervantes came to treat him on the next day he said:

  "Look here, do your best, see. I want to recover soon and then you cango home or anywhere else you damn well please."

  Discreetly, Luis Cervantes made no reply.

  A week, ten days, a fortnight elapsed. The Federal troops seemed tohave vanished. There was an abundance of corn and beans, too, in theneighboring ranches. The people hated the Government so bitterly thatthey were overjoyed to furnish assistance to the rebels. Demetrio'smen, therefore, were peacefully waiting for the complete recovery oftheir chief.

  Day after day, Luis Cervantes remained humble and silent.

  "By God, I actually believe you're in love," Demetrio said jokingly onemorning after the daily treatment. He had begun to like thistenderfoot. From then on, Demetrio began gradually to show anincreasing interest in Cervantes' comfort. One day he asked him if thesoldiers gave him his daily ration of meat and milk; Luis Cervantes wasforced to answer that his sole nourishment was whatever the old ranchwomen happened to give him and that everyone still considered him anintruder.

  "Look here, Tenderfoot, they're
all good boys, really," Demetrioanswered. "You've got to know how to handle them, that's all. You markmy words; from tomorrow on, there won't be a thing you'll lack."

  In effect, things began to change that very afternoon. Some ofDemetrio's men lay in the quarry, glancing at the sunset that turnedthe clouds into huge clots of congealed blood and listening toVenancio's amusing stories culled from The Wandering Jew. Some of them,lulled by the narrator's mellifluous voice, began to snore. But LuisCervantes listened avidly and as soon as Venancio topped off his talkwith a storm of anticlerical denunciations he said emphatically:"Wonderful, wonderful! What intelligence! You're a most gifted man!"

  "Well, I reckon it's not so bad," Venancio answered, warming to theflattery, "but my parents died and I didn't have a chance to study fora profession."

  "That's easy to remedy, I'm sure. Once our cause is victorious, you caneasily get a degree. A matter of two or three weeks' assistant's workat some hospital and a letter of recommendation from our chief andyou'll be a full-fledged doctor, all right. The thing is child's play."

  From that night onward Venancio, unlike the others, ceased calling himTenderfoot. He addressed him as Louie.

  It was Louie, this, and Louie, that, right and left, all the time.

  XI

  "Look here, Tenderfoot, I want to tell you something," Camilla calledto Luis Cervantes, as he made his way to the hut to fetch some boilingwater for his foot.

  For days the girl had been restless. Her coy ways and her reticence hadfinally annoyed the man; stopping suddenly, he stood up and eyeing hersquarely: