begins, Demetrio's men galloped through the sierra.

"To Moyahua, boys. Let's go to Demetrio Macias'
country!"

"To the country of Monico the cacique!"

The landscape grew clearer; the sun margined the
diaphanous sky with a fringe of crimson. Like the bony
shoulders of immense sleeping monsters, the chains of
mountains rose in the distance. Crags there were like
heads of colossal native idols; others like giants' faces,
their grimaces awe-inspiring or grotesque, calling forth
a smile or a shudder at a presentment of mystery.

Demetrio Macias rode at the head of his men; be-
hind him the members of his staff: Colonel Anastasio
Montanez, Lieutenant-Colonel Pancracio, Majors Luis
Cervantes and Blondie. Still further behind came War
Paint with Venancio, who paid her many compliments
and recited the despairing verses of Antonio Plaza. As
the sun's rays began to slip from the housetops, they
made their entrance into Moyahua, four abreast, to the
sound of the bugle. The roosters' chorus was deafening,
dogs barked their alarm, but not a living soul stirred
on the streets.

War Paint spurred her black horse and with one jump
was abreast with Demetrio. They rode forward, elbow
to elbow. She wore a silk dress and heavy gold earrings.