"Bad people!" exclaimed Nicanor as we ran. "They were colorados captured when we took Torreon. Joined us so we wouldn't kill 'em. Ordered out tonight to guard the Puerta!"
"Till to-morrow," said Salazar at this point, "I'm going to bed!"
The peons' houses at La Cadena, where the troops were quartered, enclosed a great square, like a walled town. There were two gates. At one we forced our way through a mob of women and peons fighting to get out. Inside, there were dim lights from doorways, and three or four little fires in the open air. A bunch of frightened horses crowded one another in a corner. Men ran wildly in and out of their cuartels, with rifles in their hands. In the center of the open space stood a group of about fifty men, mostly armed, as if to repel an attack.
"Guard those gates!" cried the Colonel. "Don't let anybody out without an order from me!" The running troops began to mass at the gates. Don Petronilo walked out alone into the middle of the square.
"What's the trouble, compañeros?" he asked quietly.
"They were going to kill us all!" yelled somebody from the darkness. "They wanted to escape! They were going to betray us to the colorados!"
"It's a lie!" cried those in the center. "We are not Don Petronilo's gente! Our jefe is Manuel Arrieta!"
Suddenly Longinos Güereca, unarmed, flashed by us and fell upon them furiously, wrenching away their rifles and throwing them far behind. For a moment it looked as if the rebels would turn on him, but they did not resist.
"Disarm them!" ordered Don Petronilo. "And lock them up!"
They herded the prisoners into one large room, with an armed guard at the door. And long after midnight I could hear them hilariously singing.