"It's just the way I like it," Anastasio chimed in. "Yes,
I like good food! But nothing really tastes good to you
unless you belch!"

The noise of mouths being filled, of ravenous feeding
followed. All drank copiously. At the end of the dinner,
Luis Cervantes rose, holding a champagne glass in one
hand, and said:

"General. . ."

"Ho!" War Paint interrupted. "This speech-making busi-
ness isn't for me; I'm all against it. I'll go out to the
corral since there's no more eating here."

Presenting Demetrio with a black velvet-covered box
containing a small brass eagle, Luis Cervantes made a
toast which no one understood but everyone applauded
enthusiastically. Demetrio took the insignia in his hands;
and with flushed face, and eyes shining, declared with
great candor:
"What in hell am I going to do with this buzzard!"

"Compadre," Anastasio Montanez said in a tremu-
lous voice. "I ain't got much to tell you. . . ."

Whole minutes elapsed between his words; the cursed
words would not come to Anastasio. His face, coated
with filth, unwashed for days, turned crimson, shining
with perspiration. Finally he decided to finish his toast