New-York tribune. [volume], August 28, 1921, Page 2, Image 46

About New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924

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needed that balance, payment was refu ?ed
me.' A long pause, thei
"It was after that, some time after that,
tha' T took Joe Askew. He vas the adminis?
trator of the San Fernando ranch at Lerdo.
1 kept him sixteen lays, flia ransom was the
amount ol thai balance due me. And it was
:. se?orita til re i 'e < ertain rel iti ? ; : -
tweei . ?? mines and certain ranches?by
the very men \ ho had refused me that bal?
ance before."
Another pei;i : of pondering. Then:
"II is true, too, that .1 have taken to eat
for my men? from Americans and Mexicans
alike. But not in pure robbery, se?orita,
but as a need in a bitterly fought and
poverty stricken revolution. I have not only
not been the enemy of Americans, but 1 n
ben their friend, their protector. There are
many of your countrymen who have lived
here who will tell you that, but they do not
write for your press.
"In 1912, when Orozco was on the stam?
pede and the situation looked bad, I ordered
American families from the surroundings
;o concentrate in Torre?n. I put twenty cm
at their disposal when cars were like the very
breat1-. of our fighting life. I gave them all
I could possibly get together of eatables. 1
ve them mozos to do the work and an es?
cort of my Lest men. .And I sent them
through, like this, to the border. In 1915
again I sent out hundreds of families under
my protection. And later, again. Truly, se?o?
rita, I tell you that i. Villa, alone, have been
responsible for the saving of hundreds of
American lives end millions of American dol?
lars. Millions of pesos of silver have been
carried by me in safety from American mil es
to the main line of railroads: and yet your
?pie call me 'Villa, the bandit.' This weighs
upon me. Tins injustice weighs. 1 wish your
o . in tead of judging me through your
papers would actually try me befare a tri?
ll. ' .. a - .. for nothing 1 otter than
i for r.y deeds before an
pen court!"
Again the heavy sigh. Silence. Then the
laugh. The Jefe was on his feet.
"No matter, se?orita! For T am a man in
everything ' ado de la ride' (disil
ion .1 with life). Let us give yon some cof
ee until the time of supper, and then I will
present you to Villa the worker, the organ
?zer, the farm? r and builder."
TpliE family came in. to be presented.
The present Se?ora de Villa is a gentle,
pretty Mexican woman about thirty. She
wore a white percale dress, an:! her hair was
heel into is mall knot at the
?-.ape . ? lier neck. Her voice was exceptionally
low, almost a whisper.
Then there v as Augustin, Villa's oUest son.
igustin i :- nine. Than Octavio, about seven,
and two little girls. Each child ?-ame up and
a.; very prettily and then ran over t?>
Villa and took his hand ami kissed it. He
te?l them all, but it was clear from the
i ' _ugn tin, the oldest, holds
he biggest part of his father's affection,
"This boy, se?orita.'' said the Jefe, "can
ride any horse on the ranch. Ami shoot!?
how y? us rifle to the se?orita, my son."
Augustin produced from behind the piano
: ?ae ? rifle, ? vva - ! tgger than he. So
he could hardly handle it alone. He laid
it aero er's and tugged . o
. .3 oil' its case. Then its wrappings. Then
the leather breech protector. He held up the
n bai re! proudly.
.' ' o a ." a, y-two!"
"?'t' ? . rned Augustin, aged
y thirty-thii
"We arc 'puros hombres' here, se?orita,"
sai-.! V lia. \vy'\ then: "To-morrow, my little
, ... invite the sen dta to ? hoot ai
the target with you in the orchard, and see
who shall wii . '
The invitation accepted. The gun wrapped
and retired to its. il post behind the
i ui to play. And
we w< '. aci the su ; drenched patio to the
dininj
big, plain, square room of
white walls and tile floi rs, Its only Eurniture,
?. h a en h on either side, and
a hat rack. f\ wind ? in one wall, with a
gave to the kitchen. < )ne had a
vista ??;* a stove lil ige, and
two or threi women & at work. W.c
were served by an ?Id i named P?p?
-, ? and butter.
Villa m 3 upon us?home made
did we not find
it t'. oui ta te? Then h .1 >on Kdu: :
do' m lj ing negligently on
x-'tv: :
''?: it thl3, amigo? When I have liad
a r for fine hats !" He or?
dered P?p? b he Stetson in t?te.
1 '..,.:?????:?:. ; ? ?? i '.\\A cl Stal ?
Harding? What
iKJrl o1 , Hughes? Wha
vere their intentii ? o ? ?
Id be set
h - i'
powe ? pita!. "The oil question
? rst and with jusl ice. Mexico
itl the I nited State
,,;. irii g ran? h? ??-? ?
en there vo ti ; from 1 u
fit . And
: ?* ? '?? ight be I c i ible for the I Led ! ate
fron who kn -3'. ,? STov w is
powerful and all othi i and
pretending friendship. Bwl in their heart
1 : i
estai stos'
'<<?<'? '?' ? people are.) : ivy i i a
force, if trouble Hho r.<: come, why,
d fight for er bor f*f
"???? ' ? '? r ?on of fa >? f< eli? g betwi ? ;
the - I . . II.: y,-;;., fi
? '''?'? - But the
roebl did the Ameri
?? .- - ? ?? Hi ?? was a pueblo
culto I a ? - pic A pe< pl< that could
.
of the 1 ' pueblo culto wl ?1 -
my poor pi ' elplei , ho
' fie ? ghed hi i strange,
the (1 or into
dne,
lesa, n
- ?. --.< | pi .?/? i ,
i i.?-. ?' ; ??> a i?- ? mality In no powerful that ho
impresses his moods overwhelmingly on all
who are near him.
He brought his eyes back to us, fixing us
with his stare. I
"A democracy was a useless thing unless its
people were cultured." Yes, he hud come to
this conclusion. Worse than us?dess?danger?
ous! The only hope for Mexico was to educate
the poor people. And for this they could learn
nine!! fn m the United States. He himself had
once lived eight months in California. He
could not ? peak English, only a few words, but
he knew the American people. He laughed
now. and went on.
When he was in San Francisco he had two
thousand pesos in his pocket, but he was hun?
gry all day because he did not know how to
ask for anything to eat, only a little fruit
from ?a wagon. Finally, at night, hunger
armed his courage. He went into a restaurant
and sat down. When the waiter came, he gave
him $10 and pointed first to himself and then
to the kitchen. The waiter understood, and,
taking his hand, led him out into the kitchen,
and from one pot to another. "All the food
was different from any I had ever known, so
I decided by the smell. I said 'esta' and 'esta'
until 1 had picked out enough. Then the waiter
took me hack to the table and brought me what
1 had chosen. It was a good meal, too. The
nose is much to be trusted.
"Later I went to Los Angeles. One day I
tried to speak in English to a gentleman on the
street, and he hit me. I did not hit back, be?
cause i did not know why we were lighting.
Instead, I stepped a. ide and followed him un?
til he arrived at his home. That evening I
seul a friend who could speak English to this
house to inquire why I had been hit. The
American was so pleased by my attitude he
became my friend, and later gave me a conces?
sion for cutting wood up in the hills. I lived
here with another American family, and, as
the se?ora was not very well, and as is the
custom in the United States, the house was
without even one servant, I used to get up
early?I have always been accustomed to get
up early?and make the fire and lay the table
and have everything in movimiento before the
family came down. They liked me very much,
that American family, and were sorry when
I felt I had to return to my country. And
now, if you are enough refreshed"
W/E GATHERED our hats decorously from
the rack, and went out into the white
light again, the beautiful white light of late
afternoon in Mexico. Villa led the way across
the patio to the entrance arch.
On the left the office. A big oak roller top
desk?. A filing cabinet. "Truly an office," said
Villa with pride.
On the right, the room of "los gallos." Row
a-'tar row of fighting coc'o.s ?filed in crates, one
on to]) of the o1 her.
"I like fighting cocks," said the Jefe. "I am
a man without vices. I do not! drink, and I
do not gamble, and I smoke but, little; but I
like .OS gallos.' This is a beautiful bird, El
Charro. And look ?U this one, El Valiente?
Ah! H"re is one you will want to see?Weel
son. Come here, Weel.on! He is not much
of a bird, this Weelson, but"-It just oc?
curred to me then tiiat the bedraggled fighting
cock he was holding out for my inspection was
nai led in honor of our former President.
"Not much of a bird, you say?" laughed Don
Eduardo.
"Oh, 'ne'.-, all right, only"- He stopped.
"Only what, Don Francisco?"
"Nothing. 1 was just thinking, that is all.
Of c aii'.-.a. Wilson was not my friend, but?
lever mind. Esta bien."
"Bettor rain?' one for Harding," was Don
".? a. do's tactful suggestion, after a rather
uncomfortable pause. The J?fe laughed.
" 'Arding! Good! I'll pick out a fighter."
The sonora drew me aside. ''What does that
mean, 'Arding?" sh<^ asked, "And why do they
laugh?"
We left the gallos?Weelson, 'Arding et
al -and went out into the front, past the
chi rch, to a building in course of construc?
tion. Workmen were very busy here.
"This is the school, se?orita. ?Soon it will
be d( ne. Now the children go every day to
an ordinary little house, and a young lady
hears their lessons. But in a few months all
will be installed here We will have desks,
books, teachers?-all that is necessary. The
building is according to my ideas." There
were lung, narrow rooms built around the
Conr sides of a court. We went into the first
one.
"This is for the beginners. You see, the
idows high. That is my special idea.
o ?'.. * ; - child can look out and be diverted
his studies. Here all must be serious.
Here ch ldren must learn. When a youngster
e iti r hi . chool all he needs is inside these
walls. The key can be turned, and nobody
c:.: gef out except to eat. Children should
go to school. 1 shall see to that." Again
? ? sigh.
"i myself have never had one ?lay in
chool. Not one day. 1 am very ignorant.
! can read a little, and write a little, that is
all. And ! learned after I was a man. How?
ever," now the laugh, "I can sign my name."
Ser >.is again. "But my sons shall be in
: icted. First here at Canutillo, v/here they
.. !1 learn in the school from books and in
? lifi of the ranch from natural things.'
That . important for a man, most important
of all. To-morrow you shall see at the
'bianco' how my son Augustin can shoot.
Later ! shall send them away to learn more
in the United States."
TPHEN we saw the bodegas full of wheat.
"How many hectoliters did we guess?"'
Don Eduardo must see if he could calculate.
Ton thousand? Close! Good! And see! Run
it through the fingers; was it not clean?
We saw the mowers, and the thrashers,
md the ??lows, and the barrows?all Amer
! :i n made.
We saw the carpenter ?hop.
We Baw the blacksmith shop.
Then we saw the new stal'i, with Toncrote
feed boxes, for the horses. We looked over
the J?fc'fl favorite mount, and Augustin'?
pony, and many others.
We saw tii*- cows. And the goat?.
By then it whh nlmoHt dark. We crossed
a small stream on a plank and went into the
orchard. A wide path led under tho trees.
! in? shadows were long. It wan'beautiful.
Then- were many men juPt laying ofF work.
They ?stepped aiddo a? wo panaed, and ?aluted
the Jefe. They were working among the po?
tatoes and tomatoes and onions and garlic,
planted between the trees. Villa stepped up
to three of them.
"Will you, friends, have the kindness to go
to the lower field and bring us some water?
melons?" The men started off, entrer to be
of service. We sat on the ground to wait,
The talk was of different melons. Which
varieties were the better. (That was some?
thing that was to impress me continually
during our visit?the so-called fierce and dic?
tatorial Villa asking our advice again and
again, on all sorts of subjects.) He said he
wished he could get hold of some seeds of
American melons.
Then the "friends" came with two fine big
ones. We took them with us to the house, the
J?fe carrying one, and Don Eduardo the other.
Back again to the sala. Villa seated him?
self on a straight backed chair, and we grouped
ourselves in a little semi-circle about him.
First he called for plates and a knife. While
these were being brought he called for water
to wash his hands.
A young woman brought him the little
stand with the bowl and pitcher. She poured
out the water for him and handed him the
soap. Then she poured clear water over.
This done, she handed him the towel. Louis
the Fourteenth, in all the grandeur of Ver?
sailles, could not have accomplished his ablu?
tions with more primitive formality.
The little washing outfit was then put be?
fore each of us, and the same general cere?
mony gone, through with, while Villa pro?
ceeded to cut the melon with great deftness.
He proportioned the thin slices between us
and called for boxes. The young woman
The author and a leading Villista at the entrance to the Patio
brought two and set. them before us. They
were for the rinds. We ate with relish.
Hardly was this over when it was, supper
time. The Jefe, it seems, never takes supper,
but he went with us to the table.
A figure appeared outside in the dark.
"Excuse me, mi gem ral, but .Antonio is
angry against Ignacio Martinez and has gone
to his house for his pistol."
"Take it away from him immediately?you
and Felipe?and lock him up with the gallos
for to-night."
"Esta bien, mi general''
The incident passed without comment.
jj ATER, out in the patio, in the fresco. What
profound stillness! What an overwhelm?
ing sense of isolation! How many, many
stars!
"Tell me, friend," said the Jefe suddenly to
Don Eduardo, "do you believe there is a God?"
"Yes, 1 do. Don't you, Don Francisco?"
"i don't know. 1 wonder. Sometimes I
wonder very much. And then I look at the
stars, so many and so mysterious. And I tell
myself all these questions are too big for the
little minds of men to answer." He stopped
and pondered. (That is another characteris?
tic?a habit of pondering heavily. When it is
light and you can see his face you can actually
see in the strain of his expression the great
effort he Is making to think?to think out
whatever is baffling him.) After one of these
queer silent inward efforts, he went on
"But if there is a Cod -I say if, my friend,
if 1?and if he made tho earth, surely he Ls
too good to have made anything as mean as a
hell! Don't you believe that, my friend?
There is no hell?"
Don Eduardo agreed.
More silence. More pondering. Then?
"But of what good aro ?'?lurches to God,
friend, or to men? Wo have turned our
church Into a warehouse and we arc all heller
off, Why, even the saint.' on tho wall have
gotten fatter. Surely they have. To-morrow
you look und you'll see. Especially those on
the same side? with the potatoes, 1 tell you
between tho rats and the saints it is hard for
a man to make a living hero."
"Are there many rat? hore, Don Francisco?"
"Wholo armloH o? thorn, Wo have fought
them day and night, until now there are
scarcely any left. But still there are fleas.
Of what use are fleas, friend? If there is a
God why should he make such things as a flea?
How could a God think of a flea? That is what
I don't understand. Of what purpose is a flea?
Born only to idleness, to cat and then to
'pasear.' Muy paseadores, fleas. Never sleep
nor let sleep. Rats! mice! fleas! What a
fight it has been to establish order here! Do
you not think, friend, you could send me some
sort of powders to serve these last?"
"Surely I'll send you some flea powder, Don
Francisco. How much do you want?"
"About fifty kilos."
"But that's enough to kill all the fleas in
the world!"
"Well, we've got all the fleas in-the world!"
I UNFORTUNATE prospect for bed.
It was time?after 9. The Villa family,
like most Mexican families, retires early. The
children had gone long before.
It seems I was to have the big brass bed in
state. The Jefe and his se?ora would hear of
no other arrangement, declaring they would
find themselves very comfortable in the next
room with the children.
The young girl brought fresh water. The
se?ora turned down the covers. Villa put a
, chair at the head and set the lamp on it. "May
you rest well, se?orita. Until to-morrow."
I undressed and slipped into immaculately
clean sheets. Over me a white embroidered
counterpane. My tired, dusty head on an ex?
quisite hand-made pillow slip.
So this was the bed of Villa. I blew out
the light.
Soon the door opened softly. The se?ora's
gentle voice?
"The general says to leave the door to us
unen, that you may not feel alone or afraid
during t he night."
?VFORNTNG. Seven o'clock. (No?not, one
all night.)
The se?ora was waiting to take breakfast.
The Jefe had long since been up. It was his
custom to rise at 4. There was much to be
looked after.
Scon Villa and Don Eduardo joined us.
They came from a "tribunal." Afterward
Don Eduardo told me about it.
"You remember that little disturbance last,
ni'.ht, when Don Francisco ordered some?
body's pistol taken away from him and the
man locked up? Well, the trial was this
morning. In the office. Very simple. The
J?fe sat at the desk and the man was
brought in. The Jefe asked him what he had
to say. The man said 'nada.' Then the
Jefe said: 'it is necessary that, there be order
here. Nothing but order. The integrity of
,?!'; of us is involved. If you feel in your
heart that you are henceforth able to com?
ply, return to your work as usual. But if
you feel in your heart that you are not able
to comply, tell me now, and I shall arrange
to have you and your family transported this
very day to wherever you wish to go. What
do you say?' T shall be orderly henc .forth,
mi general.' 'That is well. Go to your
house.'
TE SPENT the morning going around the
hacienda. How endless it was! Not a
ranch. Not a little town. But a separate
state.
And over it all?never lifting for a second
?that unearthly sense of silent isolation.
Much activity?men on horseback, mule
i cams. wag?..-.loads of wheat, scrapers. But
ail the work going very stilly. No jangling
of harness. No clang of tools. No talk of
men. Silence, Shadows moving in a dream.
How to explain this strange, unreal still
ne_s that hangs over the hacienda of Canu?
tillo? Is it but the natural hush of vast,
empty, low hills stretching out endlessly in
clear, high air? Or is there, too, some curi?
ous repression in the souls of these people
now living there? The repression of men mov?
ing dumbly through unaccustomed tasks?
v.
The oppression of heart of Villistas turned
farmers?
"We have no drinking here, se?orita. No
gambling. No disorderly houses. Not even
a baile. Nothing but work?puro trabajo."
Now and then a workman would come up to
the Jefe, take off his hat and wait respectfully
until Vil'a would "say:
"What now, iriend?"?
"Excuse me, mi general, but shall we put
the tomatoes in the small boxes or in the
large?"
"In the small. Pack them not too closely
and put one box over the other, with sticks
between, in piles of six."
"Esta bien, mi general."
Every time in thr two days that any one |
cante to Villa for an* order?and they came to
him about everything?he answered them im?
mediately, without a moment's hesitation,
clearly, directly, finally, as though he drew all
his orders from some swift, infallible source.
And I began to understand something of his
power over men, for how surely and how
gratefully even the strong among us respond
to complete decisiveness.
WfE WENT into the church?now a ware?
house. It was swept clean and piled high
with boxes, crates and sacks. There was a
counter half way along the front And scales.
But high on the sidewalls still hung the saints.
And the altar, big and gilt, was untouched,
but uncandled, at the room's end.
We had hardly entered when an old peon
appeared at the door, hat in hand. He came
on the material errand of getting a kilo of
rice, but the surroundings were too much for
his habit-trained, devout old soul. He. asked
for a kilo of rice, and then, one eye on the
scale and one eye on the altar, he crossed him?
self. Just then he saw the Jefe, and, sud?
denly feeling his devotion to have been mis?
placed, he put on his hat. Then, realizing
that was a breach to his general, he took it off
as quickly. Then he put it on to take his rice,
and, turning, faced the altar again, and anx?
iously took it off.
"Pobre viejito" (poor little old man),
smiled Villa, taking it all in. ".So good, but
so ignorant." Then he was serious. "That is
the trouble with all of us, se?orita. We are
good people, but wre are so ignorant. Where is
the man with the power to lift up my race?"
He sighed. Again that overwhelming sad?
ness. I knew that he had once dreamed of
being that man.
AT DINNER we had another guest, General
Nicolas Fernandez. He had ridden over
with his small son from his particular part of
the ranch at San Isidro, on the River Florido,
eighteen leagues distant. He was another of
those silent, sad, sinewy men.
The talk was ranch talk. General Fernan?
dez was having difficulty over some water
right. It was a question of politics, very dif?
ficult.
"Who is your deputy from over there?"
asked the Jefe.
"I don't know."
"Those are thing:, you should know, my
friend. We must occupy ourselves with these
questions now.
The talk was of crops and cattle. Villa said
he wanted to go to Juarez to buy "Ginado."
He asked advice of General Fernandez, of
Don Eduardo and, yes, of me. .Again that in?
credible eagerness to be instructed, to be told,
to be advised! And that strained, drinking-in
expression with which he listens, like an
anxious child standing beside the teacher.
General Fernandez thought the Jefe would
do better to go to Matamoras than to Juarez.
But Don Eduardo didn't like Texas longhorns
anywhere. And I preferred Herefords. Why
did I prefer Herefords? Why were they better
for him than Holsteins? And what about Jer?
seys? And what crosses were considered best
in the United States?
The talk drifted to great ranchers. Did I
know the American of the Cadena y Pelayo
ranch, Don Jacobo? (Jacob Sweet.) That one
was a ''puro hombre." "Hace divinidades d
caballo"! (A real man. He does divine things
on horseback.) There was a Gringo to be ad?
mired !
And Ge?neral Scott! Of all the Americans
he had ever known he liked best (here he
turned with a courteous gesture to Don
Eduardo?"putting aside for the moment your
friendship, amigo")?he had liiced best Gen?
eral Scott?"un verdadero solda'o" (a true
soldier).
AT THE tin e of siesta the se?ora and I sat
together in the cool of the bcdroom-sala.
Sht was sewing on a bit of thin pink silk.
"What are you making, se?ora?"
She looked at me uneasily?"tut toallita."
"But of such fine material, a doily?"
She blushed and murmured something
about it being for a friend. We talked of
other things. The servant problem. Very
difficult to get good help on a ranch. She had
two women in the kitchen and two men to do
nothing but grind for them (everything?corn
for tortillas, wheat for bread is ground by
hand on a metate), and one man to wait on
the table. But neither the f.od nor the serv?
ice of it was as she wanted. And two girls
to take care of the rooms. But she must con?
stantly see to everything herself. They were
not to be trusted alone to Keep everything per?
fectly clean.
We spoke of the Jefe.
"He seems very sad," I said. "Too sad."
"How can it be otherwise, se?orita, when
one has suffered so? Sometimes he tells me a
little of what he has endured, and it is more
than I can bear?just the telling. I would like
you to know some of them, but he would not
wish it. There are things a real man does not
speak of. But perhaps if you would ask him,
se?orita, for example, about his days hiding in
the cave when your army was hunting him?
perhaps?I don't know?He might say a little."
We were silent for a while. I could feel her
looking at me. Then she got up and, opening
the wardrobe with one of the usual many keys
of the Mexican lady of the house, she shyly
brought out a bundle of tiny clothe.., and, with?
out a word, put it on my lap.
There were almost a do_en little dresses of
pink silk, and a dozen of white linen. All the
came pattern, but each differently adorned
with fine handwork. I never knew before there
was such an infinite variety of stitches.
"Each little one different," she whispered,
and blushed like a girl.
A UGUSTIN came in shining with excitement
"We are going to have the target con?
test! Here is the rifle! But where are the
cartridges?"
Much rumaging through the whole house of
Villa to find any cartridges. Finally w? ^
off. Augustin and I, the contestants; Villa,the
se?ora, Don Eduardo, Margarita and quite a
gallery of Villistas.
The "bianco" (target l was a white bottle
placed on a stump at twenty-five metres. I
lifted the rifle. But Augustin:
"A moment, se?orita. Do you not want to
rest the rifle by a tree?"
"But no." The little lad looked very un.
happy; then after a moment.
"But. se?orita, it is necessary that I rest it
by a tree, because I cannot hold it otherwise,
It weighs too much."
"All right. You rest it, Augustin, because
you are little, but I shall shoot like this be?
cause I am big." But he was not to be com?
forted.
"Please, se?orita, do me the favor to rest it
on the tree?you, too?so that we shall be
equal in the contest."
Is it a disgrace, I wonder, for a grown wom?
an to be outshot by a child of nine, when that
child happens to be the first-born son of Fran?
cisco Villa?
Then the Jefe challenged Don Eduardo to a
pistol contest. A bottle, still at twenty-five
metres. Don Eduardo shot first. Villa's nis
tol. Even the Jefe was impressed. He turned
to me, his eyes shining with pleasure at his
friend's prowess.
"Carai! Se?orita Que buenos tiros estos!"
(Gee, what good shots!)
Then the Jefe. Good shooting. But no bet?
ter than Don Eduardo's?perhaps not quite as
good.
"Estoy viejo" (I am old) he murmured when
we were going back through the dusk. (He is
forty-four.) Again the sadness.
?6T$7ILL you not tell me of some of the
hard tasks you have accomplished in
your ten years of revolution, mi General?"
"Ah, se?orita, a man does not talk of those
things."
"Well, will you not tell me why you fought
for ten years?"
"That is simple, se?orita. I first went into
revolution because life was insupportable for
the low people during the time of Diaz?and
I was of the low people. I followed the little
Madero. Then he was killed by Huerta. And
I overcame Huerta. Then was Carranza. But
nothing was better for the low people. Noth?
ing had yet been won. So I kept on fighting
until?well?now Carranza is dead and"
"How do you feel about the death of Car
ranza?"
His face darkened?"Una mancha barbara!
a horrible stain that will defile the. history o?
my poor country forever." Again that ponder?
ing. Then
"Well, he is dead. And the patria need?
peace. More than anything else the patria
needs peace. Ro I have quit fighting. I am a
farmer. When I thought it was best for my
people I would not quit fighting. And ?vh^n
I thought it was best for my people I would
not go on fighting."
"How many battles have you been in, mi
General?"
"Of battles, se?orita?and by that I shall
mean combats where at least one hundred
men were left on the field?over one. thou?
sand and three hundred. I have had luck,
eh?"
"Never wounded?"
Oh, yes, of course. I have a bullet here.
And here. And here. And here. And if) this
leg?not so lucky?three. And the last time.
three different places. When we reach the
house I shall show you why I shall never walk
well again and why I have pain without end?
ing."
"That was when the Americans came in?"
"Yes."
"Will you tell me about that?about your
lying in a cave so long? I have heard, about
it, but"
"There is not much to tell, se?orita. After
the battle of Herrero, where I was wounded
?my leu-, as ? told you, broken in three places?
I disbanded what was left of my forces, that
they might escape without the burden of me.
And with two men only?both my first cousins
?I ran for the higher hills to a secret cave
I knew\ We reached it just in the nick of
time to hide, but without a moi
food. We had with us only three kilos of
rice and one and one-half kilos of sugar.
And we lay there thirty-three days, se?oril.
Thirty-three days with nothing to cat but
three kilos of rice and one and one-half kilos
of sugar among three men! Luckily, there
was water in the cave, and water is the most
essential. There were in pur.
Carranzistas and 12.000 Americans. On sev?
eral different days during the first week we
heard them beaming the brush all around u .
but so cleverly had nature arranged oar hi_
?nor place never?unless they knew?could
they suspect a cave. During the second wee.
1 felt that 1 was to die. And I made my
cousins swear to build a great fire of hard
wood and l urn . until not a pi?co of bone
remained. My gr< _t. my only fear, was that
my dead body might be taken captive to a
foreign country." A long pause. Then-??
_. 4 FTER a month of that I thought it safe
to try to go. And I directed my cousins
to build me a ?stretcher of branches. On the
thirty-third day they carried me out into the
air of night. Traveling that way, carrytr.?
me by night, and hiding me by day, they
brought me to the house of a friend. Here ?
lay some days while they hid food and ah
necessaries in another larger cave, where we
then retired, but not in agony this time, ior
six weeks more?until I was cured. But
cured is hardly the word, as the wound rtfl
pained?almost, continually."
We had reached the house.
"If you would look at my leg, frieud, and
you, se?orita, and tell me if you think it wil?
ever quit its aching.'
Again that childlike confidence In our p?*
knowledge. Like a little boy. he pulled up hi?j
corduroy trousers leg. and the white oo__?
(Continued on ??aae four)