lated himself.

They made room for her between Luis Cervantes and
Blondie, opposite Demetrio.

Bottles of tequila, dishes of cut glass, bowls, porcelains
and vases lay scattered over the table indiscriminately.
Meco, carrying a box of beer upon his shoulders, came in
cursing and sweating.

"You don't know this fellow Blondie yet," said War
Paint, noticing the persistent glances he was casting at
Luis Cervantes' bride. "He's a smart fellow, I can tell
you, and he never misses a trick."
She gazed at him lecherously, adding:

"That's why I don't like to see him close, even on a
photograph!"

The orchestra struck up a raucous march as though
they were playing at a bullfight. The soldiers roared with
joy.

"What fine tripe, General; I swear I haven't tasted the
like of it in all my life," Blondie said, as he began to
reminisce about "El Monico" at Chihuahua.

"You really like it, Blondie?" responded Demetrio.
"Go ahead, call for more, eat your bellyful."