every swing, the toes of her shoes touched Demetrio's
back.

"Yes: I'm Demetrio Macias!" he said, scarcely turn-
ing toward her.

Indifferently, she continued to swing her legs, display-
ing her blue stockings with ostentation.

"Hey, War Paint, what are you doing here? Step down
and have a drink!" said the man called Blondie.

The girl accepted readily and boldly thrust her way
through the crowd to a chair facing Demetrio.

"So you're the famous Demetrio Macias, the hero of
Zacatecas?" the girl asked.
Demetrio bowed assent, while Blondie, laughing, said:

"You're a wise one, War Paint. You want to sport a
general!"

Without understanding Blondie's words, Demetrio
raised his eyes to hers; they gazed at each other like two
dogs sniffing one another with distrust. Demetrio could not
resist her furiously provocative glances; he was forced to
lower his eyes.

From their seats, some of Natera's officers began to
hurl obscenities at War Paint. Without paying the slightest