The mob moves slowly; some carry ropes to tie about
their bundles, others wooden trays. The women open
out their aprons or shawls calculating their capacity. All
give thanks to Divine Providence as they wait for their
share of the booty.

When Demetrio announces that he will not allow loot-
ing and orders them to disband, the mob, disconsolate,
obeys him, and soon scatters; but there is a dull rumor
among the soldiers and no one moves from his place.

Annoyed, Demetrio repeats this order.

A young man, a recent recruit, his head turned by
drink, laughs and walks boldly toward the door. But be-
fore he has reached the threshold, a shot lays him low.
He falls like a bull pierced in the neck by the matador's
sword. Motionless, his smoking gun in his hand, Deme-
trio waits for the soldiers to withdraw.

"Set fire to the house!" he orders Luis Cervantes
when they reach their quarters.

With a curious eagerness Luis Cervantes does not trans-
mit the order but undertakes the task in person.

Two hours later when the city square was black with
smoke and enormous tongues of fire rose from Monico's
house, no one could account for the strange behavior of