Castodilian dropped his cigar--he had kept it in his mouth all the time
--in the powder-keg. It killed most of us. I lost my eyes. Gonzales
forgave me, if I would promise to be a revolutionist no more. What was
there to do? I took the solemn oath at the grave of my mother; and so--
and so, senors."

Sherry had listened with a quizzical intentness, now and again cocking
his head at some dramatic bit, and when Becodar paused he suddenly leaned
over and thrust a dollar into the ever-waiting hand. Becodar gave a
great sign of pleasure, and fumbled again with the money in his pocket.
Then, after a moment, it shifted to the bit of ribbon that hung from the
chair: "See, senors," he said. "I tied this ribbon to the chair all
those years ago."

My eyes were on the peg and the holes in the wall. Sherry questioned
him. "Why do you spike the wall with the little red peg, Becodar?"

"The Little Red Peg, senor? Ah! It is not wonderful you notice that.
There are eight bullet-holes in that zarape"--he pointed to the wall--"
there are eight holes in the wall for the Little Red Peg. Well, of the
eight men who fired on my brother, two are left, as you may see. The
others are all gone, this way or that." Sherry shrugged a shoulder.
"There are two left, eh, Becodar? How will they die, and when?" Becodar
was motionless as a stone for a moment. Then he said softly: "I do not
know quite how or when. But one drinks much mescal, and the other has a
taste for quarrel. He will get in trouble with the Rurales, and then
good-bye to him! Four others on furlough got in trouble with the
Rurales, and that was the end. They were taken at different times for
some fault--by Gerado's company--Gerado, my cousin. Camping at night,
they tried to escape. There is the Law of Fire, senors, as you know.