the general.



VI


They established themselves in a large gloomy house,
which likewise belonged to the cacique of Moyahua. The
previous occupants had already left strong evidences in
the patio, which had been converted into a manure pile.
The walls, once whitewashed, were now faded and
cracked, revealing the bare unbaked adobe; the floor had
been torn up by the hoofs of animals; the orchard was
littered with rotted branches and dead leaves. From
the entrance one stumbled over broken bits of chairs
and other furniture covered with dirt.

By ten o'clock, Luis Cervantes yawned with boredom,
said good night to Blondie and War Paint, who were
downing endless drinks on a bench in the square, and
made for the barracks. The drawing room was alone fur-
nished. As he entered, Demetrio, lying on the floor with
his eyes wide open, trying to count the beams, gazed
at him.

"It's you, eh? What's new? Come on, sit down."

Luis Cervantes first went over to trim the candle, then
drew up a chair without a back, a coarse rag doing