the Roman soldier who crucified Our Lord in the Via
Crucis of the parish! They have seen Pancracio!

Demetrio repeats his order to search.

Once again the women disappear to return this time
with a moth-eaten wallet containing a few Huerta bills.

Demetrio smiles and without further delay calls to his
men to come in. Like hungry dogs who have sniffed their
meat, the mob bursts in, trampling down the women who
sought to bar the entrance with their bodies. Several
faint, fall to the ground; others flee in panic. The chil-
dren scream.

Pancracio is about to break the lock of a huge ward-
robe when suddenly the doors open and out comes a
man with a rifle in his hands.

"Senor Don Monico!" they all exclaim in surprise.

"Demetrio, please, don't harm me! Please don't harm
me! Please don't hurt me! You know, Senor Don Deme-
trio, I'm your friend!"

Demetrio Macias smiles slyly. "Are friends," he
asked, "usually welcomed gun in hand?"
Don Monico, in consternation, throws himself at
Demetrio's feet, clasps his knees, kisses his shoes:
"My wife! . . . My children! . . . Please, Senor Don