Free The Underdogs by Mariano Azuela Page A

hide in the center of the earth.”
    â€œWhat d’ya say, muchachos?” Demetrio inquired after the old man had left.
    â€œLet’s go get ’em! Let’s go kill every single one of those conservative mongrels!” Demetrio’s men exclaimed.
    They counted the cartridges and the hand grenades that Owl 3 had built with fragments of iron pipes and brass knobs.
    â€œIt’s not much,” Anastasio observed. “But we’ll trade ’em in for real rifles soon ’nough.”
    They pressed forward anxiously, spurring the thin flanks of their fatigued nags.
    But Demetrio’s imperious voice stopped them. Following their leader’s orders, they made camp at the foothill of a rise, protected by a thick growth of huisache trees. Without unsaddling their horses, every man sought a rock to lay his head.

XVI
    Demetrio Macías gave the marching orders at midnight.
    The town was one or two leagues away. They were going to strike the Federales at dawn. The sky was clouded over and only a handful of stars shone above, but occasionally there was a reddish flash of lightning that lit up the entire night.
    Luis Cervantes asked Demetrio if it might not behoove them—so as to be even more successful in their attack—to find a guide, or at the very least to gather the town’s topographic details and the precise situation of the barracks of the Federales.
    â€œNo, curro, ” Demetrio replied, smiling with a disdainful expression. “We hit ’em when they least expect it, and tha’s that. Tha’s how we’ve always done it, many times before, and it’s how we’ll always do it. Ever seen how squirrels stick their heads outta their holes if ya fill ’em up with water? Well, these damned little conservative mongrels will come out just as stunned when they hear the first shots. They’ll come out, and we’ll be there ready to use their heads as target practice.”
    â€œAnd what if the old man who gave us that information yesterday was lying? What if they turn out to have fifty men instead of twenty? What if that old man was a spy put out there by the Federales?”
    â€œThis curro here is startin’ to get all scared already!” Anastasio Montañés said.
    â€œYes, handling a rifle is not like boilin’ water and puttin’ on bandages and givin’ enemas, is it now, curro ?” Pancracio asked.
    â€œH’m, come on!” the Indian said. “Too much talk already. All this over a dozen scared rats!”
    â€œSoon enough we’ll find out whether our mothers gave birth to real men or what,” Lard added.
    When they reached the edge of the small town, Venancio went on ahead and knocked on the door of the first small house he found.
    â€œWhere’s the barracks?” he demanded of the man who stepped outside, barefoot, wearing a torn poncho around his otherwise bare chest.
    â€œThe barracks is just down there by the plaza, sir,” he answered.
    But as none of them knew where “down there by the plaza” was, Venancio forced the man to walk out in front of their column and show them the way.
    Trembling with fear, the unfortunate wretch exclaimed that what they were making him do was outrageous.
    â€œI’m just a poor peasant, señor. I have a wife and small children.”
    â€œAnd what are mine, dogs?” Demetrio replied.
    Then he ordered:
    â€œVery quiet now, on the ground, single file, down the middle of the street.”
    The broad quadrangular church dome rose up above the other houses of the town.
    â€œSee there, señores? The plaza is in front of the church. Ya just walk a little farther down from there and ya’ll run straight into the barracks.”
    The man then knelt down and begged them to let him go back home. But without answering, Pancracio struck the man in the chest with the butt of his rifle and made him continue.
    â€œHow many soldiers are stationed