“But she is in Mazatlán! And I am in Culiacán!”
“Don’t you love her?”
“Love her! Ah, señor, who would not love her! So good, so pure, so true, so beautiful, so like an angel in Heaven! For two whole years I have dreamed of her! Throughout the two years that I was Villista in Chihuahua!
“Listen, señor. Two years ago I left Mazatlán. She promised that she would marry me. But I was penniless, señor. And in Mexico, the man must buy his bride’s trousseau. I was mechanic, and I went to Sonora to work in the mines. I was in the village of San Pedro when the Villistas came through. Some youths from the town fired upon the rear-guard, killing Villa’s cousin. And Villa ordered that every man in San Pedro should die in punishment. They herded me with the others in the public square, and took us out, twenty at a time, to the church wall, where our youths were slaughtered with pistol and machine-gun. But they spared me, for I was mechanic, and Villa had use for mechanic.
“Of course, I became Villista. Who, señor, would not? And I fought Carranza with the others. Why not? Who was Carranza but a general more fortunate than Villa, who captured Mexico City, and made himself president? I fought with Villa all through Chihuahua. Yes, I helped to fire upon Columbus, in your own New Mexico, but I liked Americans, and I fired in the air. I would have come home, but I had no money for the journey. There came a day when we took Juarez. I was lieutenant then. I captured a building with my men. It was gambling house. There was gold upon the tables, and I filled my pockets. Why not, señor? Some one else would have taken it. I ran away from the Villistas. I rode four hundred miles—four hundred miles, señor—through the mountains and across the Yaqui desert.”
Unconsciously he struck a dramatic pose.
“Would I have done that, señor, if I did not love the girl?”
Then he climbed into a coach, and rode away toward a questionable destination with a gay little wave of his hand.
VII
I was inclined to doubt the General’s story.