A man fell and began to drag himself along through the dust. Then Robledo saw another man tumble over. Gonzalez appeared, in shirt sleeves as usual, with elastic bands showing his biceps. With arms up-raised he proffered entreaties, commands, and imprecations, in one breath. The half-breeds who served in the boliche also rushed out and added their shrieks to the confusion, while they fled up and down the street.
Robledo took out his revolver and spurring his horse, got between both groups of contestants, pointing first to one group, then to the other, and at the same time commanding the crowd to come to order. With the help of the neighbors, who began coming out of their houses, some of them carrying rifles, he succeeded in bringing about a momentary semblance of order. Followed by the workmen from the dam the gauchos fled, while the women, both the dancers from the boliche and the respectable wives and mothers of the neighborhood, ran to the assistance of the wounded.
Gonzalez, who was making a great deal of noise without anyone’s paying attention to him, gave a gesture of delight when he recognized Robledo, as though certain that the engineer would know just how to save the situation.
“These are the friends of Manos Duras,” he explained. “They came to raise a row because down at the dam they won’t let this dirty fellow sell them any more meat, or do any business with them. As there’s a race coming off tomorrow Manos Duras blew into town to make trouble for me and that’s how all this happened.... It’s as though the devil was let loose in the town now, don Manuel! And there was a time when it was so quiet here....”
Still hot and excited from the recent battle, the gallego went on sputtering explanations. He admitted that the Chilians sometimes provoked disturbances, but only occasionally, and always as a consequence of too much liquor. No one could hold them responsible for this affair! Poor rotos! It was the natives who had behaved outrageously, as if carrying out secret orders, and provoking the workmen with a definite intention of stirring up a riot.
“And this kind of thing isn’t going to stop here, don Manuel. I know Manos Duras. If he had wanted money he would have come to me for it, and it wouldn’t be the first time.... But there’s something else in all this that I don’t quite get. He has some reason for making mischief, there’s something in all this that we don’t know....”
The wounded had been picked up and put in the boliche by this time. A man on horseback started off for Fuerte Sarmiento to get the doctor, who came to La Presa only once every two weeks. Some of the women went off to find a Sicilian peon who was reputed to know the secret of curing wounds; and in the middle of the street the old grannies of the settlement were shrilling out their opinion of Manos Duras and his friends.
Robledo, deep in thought about all that had been going on, started off once more towards his house. Yes; Gonzalez was right. The devil has been let loose in La Presa. Life there was completely changed from what it had been before....
And on the following day he noticed a great transformation in the workmen at the dam. Those who belonged to Pirovani’s gang sprawled on the ground smoking and dozing. Some of them, those of Spanish blood, were humming to themselves, clapping their hands and looking dreamily away, as though they saw in the distance the homeland they had left.
The Chilian foreman known as “the friar” was going from one group to another, protesting against this laziness; but all he got for his pains was laughter at his expense. One of the older workmen went so far as to answer insolently: