We had not gone very far from the town when we heard per-r-rrok-rok-pook-pook-pook-pok—bung.
"Jesus, Maria, y Josep!" exclaimed my mother.
We all looked at each other speechless. At a distance we heard a cry, "Nacu! nanay co."
"Perhaps a bullet struck that man," I said to myself.
In a few minutes we arrived at the Lecheria hill. It was already dark. There was a moon, but it was hidden behind the clouds. At the bottom of the hill was a large house made of nipa and bamboo. The house was very dark. When we came to it a voice inside said, "Who is that? Aniceto?"
"Yes," answered my father.
"Why are you late? Have you eaten your supper?" asked the voice.
"No, but we have to go now. The bullets will reach us here. We can eat our supper in the carreton," replied my father.
All the people in the house silently went down to the ground. They got into their carts and we began our journey. There were four vehicles in all. One was loaded with rice. Uncle Paulino and his family were in one. The other one was occupied by Grandmother Tereza and her four sons. We traveled over low hills and valleys beneath the outspreading branches of the wild trees and over thick cogon grasses. The moon had gained full brightness, but the night was cold. After I had eaten my supper I fell asleep. My mother wrapped me in her blanket. When I awoke I found that we were in Pasong Calabaw. It was four o'clock in the morning. We had been traveling all night.
—Leopoldo Faustino.