"Raul—I was running toward the mill.... It's on fire," said Manuel, groaning, feeling his arms and chest, peering at Raul with eyes dulled by pain.
"Let's get out of the stable," said Raul.
Manuel struggled to his feet.
"Can you make it?"
"I'll make it. Where?"
"To the house ... they doused it with kerosene."
With other men they returned to the house and began to fight the fire in the dining room with sand and dirt, hauling and shoveling it from the second patio.
Manuel had armed himself at the tienda, as they passed. In spite of the pain from his head injury, he helped haul sand. Raul and Salvador worked close to the dining-room door, throwing sand from buckets. While they battled the blaze, men broke in the tienda door and dumped kerosene over the desk and walls.
There, outside the tienda, they trapped Pedro.
Raul raised his rifle: the sight cleared the bandolier, raised to the shoulder, dropped lower: was this a man?