"These peons are going out to fight for their freedom," he observed with his tone of satire. "They are perpetually going out to fight for their freedom. Different saviors rise up—a Miedo, a Fombombo. Now it is Saturnino, and only the Holy Virgin knows who next will be leading these tatterdemalions to freedom!" With sardonic wrinkles in his dust mask he looked at the drummer.
Strawbridge tried to shift his leg so it would not touch the hard carbine. He was somehow incensed at Saturnino's tone.
"What better thing can they fight for than their freedom?"
The colonel shrugged.
"Probably nothing. It makes a very exciting game for gentlemen—these peons wanting to be free. What finer thing could a peon do than to entertain a caballero?"
Strawbridge stared at the dust mask.
"Good God, Saturnino! Is that all this is to you?—an entertainment, a game?"
The officer shrugged again.
"Pues, of course it isn't business." He paused with a quizzical look, and then went on: "But what I really rode over to tell you is, I am dividing the men into two squadrons. I will lead one in a frontal attack on the casa fuerte. The other, Lieutenant Rosales will lead around by the river. It will make its way through the wharves and attack the casa fuerte from the rear."
Strawbridge had become attentive, and nodded to these plans.