Free The Underdogs by Mariano Azuela Page B

here?” Luis Cervantes asked the man.
    â€œSir, I don’t wanna lie to ya, your grace. But truth is, truth is there’s a whole lot of ’em there.”
    Luis Cervantes looked at Demetrio, but Macías pretended not to have heard anything.
    They soon reached a small plaza, where they were met by a deafening discharge of rifles. Startled, Demetrio’s chestnut-colored horse reared, staggered on its hind legs, folded its forelegs, and fell down kicking. Owl let out a shrill cry and rolled off his horse, which bolted madly toward the middle of the plaza.
    A new round of rifle shots was fired toward them, and the man who had guided them spread his arms out and fell backward without exhaling a sound.
    Anastasio Montañés quickly lifted Demetrio up and carried him over his shoulder. The others had already retreated and were hiding behind the walls of the surrounding houses.
    â€œSeñores, señores,” a common townsman said, sticking his head out from a large doorway. “You should circle ’round and get ’em from behind the chapel. They’re all in there. Go back down this same street, turn left at the first corner, then ya’ll reach a small alley, and then ya’ll go through that till ya reach the back of the chapel.”
    At that point an incessant round of pistol fire began raining down on them. It came from the nearby terraces.
    â€œOh,” the man said, “those aren’t bitin’ spiders fallin’ down on us. That’s the curros . Come inside here till they leave. They’ll run away soon, those curros, they’re afraid of their own shadows.”
    â€œHow many conservative mongrels are in town?” Demetrio asked.
    â€œThere were no more than a dozen or so here before. But last night they were real afraid of somethin’ and they used the telegraph to call for reinforcements. So who knows how many are in town now! But it doesn’t matter if there’s a lot of ’em. Most of ’em were enlisted by the draft, and it doesn’t take much of nothin’ for ’em to turn and run and leave their leaders behind. My brother was caught by the damned draft and they have ’im in there with ’em. I’ll go with ya, I’ll give ya a sign, and ya’ll see how all the men that was drafted come over to this side as soon as ya attack. And then we can get rid of the officers once and for all. If ya could just give me some kind of weapon, señor, I’d join ya at once.”
    â€œWe don’t have no rifles left, brother. But this oughtta be good for somethin’,” Anastasio Montañés said, handing the man a couple of hand grenades.
    The leader of the Federales was a very presumptuous young blond man with waxed mustaches. At first, when he did not know the exact number of men who had assaulted them, he had remained extremely quiet and cautious. But now that the enemy had been so successfully turned back, and they had not even given them a chance to fire a single shot, he started making unwise shows of courage and taking extraordinary risks. While all the other soldiers barely dared to stick their heads out from behind the stone pillars to look toward the enemy, the leader of the Federales went out in the bright early morning and exhibited his elegant, slender figure, his long cape occasionally waving behind him in the breeze.
    â€œAh, this reminds me of our glorious military uprising!”
    Since his military career was limited to just one adventure— the time he had participated as a cadet at the School of Officers when the revolt against President Madero had broken out—every time the slightest reason arose, he would invariably recall the deeds at the Ciudadela. 1
    â€œLieutenant Campos,” he ordered emphatically. “Take ten men and finish off those bandits hiding down there. Go and get those dirty, rotten dogs down below! They only act brave when it comes time to shooting cows