“These unreasonable, these unpatriotic people!” he began with heat. “Actually they decline to give up their miserable savings. Observe!”
Alcantara peeked into the bag. “Oh, not so bad,” he said. “But perhaps a better display of the rope——”
The other nodded. “I promise you they will be loyal.” Then, his face more determined than before, the commissary departed. Behind came the squad, the Mausers, the bag, and the noose.
The general addressed Manuelita. “We shall start at sunset,” he said. “But you? You have walked all day, you say.”
“It does not matter. I will walk all night, gladly, gladly!”
He bent to arrange the knot of his sash. When he turned back again she was gone.
At sunset the soldiers of Alcantara left the huts where they had been quartered and gathered in the Plaza. Ragged and dirty they were, and unshaven. Some of them were part Indian, with straight black hair and copper-coloured skins. Others were negroes or half-castes, with flat noses and kinky heads. But all were without uniforms. Their drill trousers were of different colours, and held up by lengths of string or rope. Their tight-fitting, collarless shirts, made of a cheap woven material, were as vari-coloured. Even their little jackets, that buttoned up to the neck and were brought in at the waist under a cartridge belt, were not of the same shade or kind. Here and there among them, stripped of its red trimmings, showed the khaki uniform of the government—spoil of a battlefield. All wore alpargatas; and those fortunate enough possessed straw hats of generous circumference or brown, furry pelo de guamas, which displayed, on a narrow divisa sewed around the crown, the corps and division of the fighter beneath. Over the left shoulder of some of the men, and passed under the belt, was a rolled, double-wool poncho, the blue side out, if it so happened, but quite as often, in unconscious treason, the other, which was dyed the red of the enemy.
Despite the commissary’s promise of loyalty, when the soldiers came together there were no cheers from the townspeople, who, gathering to see the departure, chattered in undertones among themselves, and eyed the motley force in illy concealed dislike.
And now, obeying the call of a battered bugle, the start was made. First down the street came General Blanco Alcantara, in fine style; then the black general, Tovar, astride a lanky horse; after these, a bevy of mounted officers—three coroneles, two commandantes, and two capitanes; the privates—on foot and in no formation; the asistentes, loaded down with the personal effects of their superiors; and several burros and mules carrying pack saddles heavy with ammunition; next, each with a bundle balanced on her head, a hat hung to her arm, a gourd and a smoky pail swinging and clinking together at her side, and a long tabaco in her mouth, two women; last of all, a padre, in cassock and shovel hat, riding a gaited mule.
The third woman to accompany the expedition was on the edge of the town, where the road to Higuerote opens into the forest. She was watching as she rested, eating an arepa and the remaining plantain. As Alcantara rode into sight, she stood up, her eyes shining, her lips parted, her head erect. The command by, she walked forward sturdily and fell in behind.