Stolidly, the man finished eating; next he reached for
a cantaro and gulped down the water in it; then he
stood up.

"Your rifle is under the mat," she whispered.

A tallow candle illumined the small room. In one cor-
ner stood a plow, a yoke, a goad, and other agricultural
implements. Ropes hung from the roof, securing an old
adobe mold, used as a bed; on it a child slept, covered
with gray rags.

Demetrio buckled his cartridge belt about his waist
and picked up his rifle. He was tall and well built, with a
sanguine face and beardless chin; he wore shirt and
trousers of white cloth, a broad Mexican hat and leather
sandals.

With slow, measured step, he left the room, vanishing
into the impenetrable darkness of the night.

The dog, excited to the point of madness, had jumped
over the corral fence.

Suddenly a shot rang out. The dog moaned, then
barked no more. Some men on horseback rode up, shout-
ing and sweating; two of them dismounted, while the
other hung back to watch the horses.

"Hey, there, woman: we want food! Give us eggs,