On the day General Natera began his advance against the town of
Zacatecas, Demetrio with a hundred men went to meet him at Fresnillo.
The leader received him cordially.
"I know who you are and the sort of men you bring. I heard about the
beatings you gave the Federals from Tepic to Durango."
Natera shook hands with Demetrio effusively while Luis Cervantes said:
"With men like General Natera and Colonel Demetrio Macias, we'll cover
our country with glory."
Demetrio understood the purpose of those words, after Natera had
repeatedly addressed him as "Colonel."
Wine and beer were served; Demetrio and Natera drank many a toast.
Luis Cervantes proposed: "The triumph of our cause, which is the
sublime triumph of Justice, because our ideal--to free the noble,
long-suffering people of Mexico--is about to be realized and because
those men who have watered the earth with their blood and tears will
reap the harvest which is rightfully theirs."
Natera fixed his cruel gaze on the orator, then turned his back on him
to talk to Demetrio. Presently, one of Natera's officers, a young man
with a frank open face, drew up to the table and stared insistently at
Cervantes.
"Are you Luis Cervantes?"
"Yes. You're Solis, eh?"
"The moment you entered I thought I recognized you. Well, well, even
now I can hardly believe my eyes!"
"It's true enough!"
"Well, but ... look here, let's have a drink, come along." Then:
"Hm," Solis went on, offering Cervantes a chair, "since when have you
turned rebel?"
"I've been a rebel the last two months!"
"Oh, I see! That's why you speak with such faith and enthusiasm about
things we all felt when we joined the revolution."
"Have you lost your faith or enthusiasm?"
"Look here, man, don't be surprised if I confide in you right off. I am
so anxious to find someone intelligent among this crowd, that as soon
as I get hold of a man like you I clutch at him as eagerly as I would
at a glass of water, after walking mile after mile through a parched
desert. But frankly, I think you should do the explaining first. I
can't understand how a man who was correspondent of a Government
newspaper during the Madero regime, and later editorial writer on a
Conservative journal, who denounced us as bandits in the most fiery
articles, is now fighting on our side."
"I tell you honestly: I have been converted," Cervantes answered.
"Are you absolutely convinced?"
Solis sighed, filled the glasses; they drank.
"What about you? Are you tired of the revolution?" asked Cervantes
sharply.
"Tired? My dear fellow, I'm twenty-five years old and I'm fit as a
fiddle! But am I disappointed? Perhaps!"
"You must have sound reasons for feeling that way."
"I hoped to find a meadow at the end of the road. I found a swamp.
Facts are bitter; so are men. That bitterness eats your heart out; it
is poison, dry rot. Enthusiasm, hope, ideals, happiness-vain dreams,
vain dreams.... When that's over, you have a choice. Either you turn
bandit, like the rest, or the timeservers will swamp you...."
Cervantes writhed at his friend's words; his argument was quite out of
place ... painful.... To avoid being forced to take issue, he invited
Solis to cite the circumstances that had destroyed his illusions.
"Circumstances? No--it's far less important than that. It's a host of
silly, insignificant things that no one notices except yourself ... a
change of expression, eyes shining-lips curled in a sneer-the deep
import of a phrase that is lost! Yet take these things together and
they compose the mask of our race ... terrible ... grotesque ... a race
that awaits redemption!"
He drained another glass. After a long pause, he continued:
"You ask me why I am still a rebel? Well, the revolution is like a
hurricane: if you're in it, you're not a man ... you're a leaf, a dead
leaf, blown by the wind."
Demetrio reappeared. Seeing him, Solis relapsed into silence.
"Come along," Demetrio said to Cervantes. "Come with me."
Unctuously, Solis congratulated Demetrio on the feats that had won him
fame and the notice of Pancho Villa's northern division.
Demetrio warmed to his praise. Gratefully, he heard his prowess
vaunted, though at times he found it difficult to believe he was the
hero of the exploits the other narrated. But Solis' story proved so
charming, so convincing, that before long he found himself repeating it
as gospel truth.
"Natera is a genius!" Luis Cervantes said when they had returned to the
hotel. "But Captain Solis is a nobody ... a timeserver."
Demetrio Macias was too elated to listen to him. "I'm a colonel, my
lad! And you're my secretary!"
Demetrio's men made many acquaintances that evening; much liquor flowed
to celebrate new friendships. Of course men are not necessarily even
tempered, nor is alcohol a good counselor; quarrels naturally ensued.
Yet many differences that occurred were smoothed out in a friendly
spirit, outside the saloons, restaurants, or brothels.
On the morrow, casualties were reported. Always a few dead. An old
prostitute was found with a bullet through her stomach; two of Colonel
Macias' new men lay in the gutter, slit from ear to ear.
Anastasio Montanez carried an account of the events to his chief.
Demetrio shrugged his shoulders. "Bury them!" he said.