The Underdogs Read Online Free PDF Page A

and sat up, startled:
    â€œMontañés, didya hear that? A gunshot! Montañés . . . wake up!”
    Quail pushed Montañés hard several times, until he got him to move and stop snoring.
    â€œSon of a ... ! You botherin’ me again? I tell ya that the dead don’t come back to haunt us . . .” Anastasio muttered, half awake.
    â€œI heard a gunshot! Montañés!”
    â€œGo to sleep, Quail, or you’re gonna get it . . .”
    â€œNo, Anastasio. I’m tellin’ ya this is no nightmare. I’ve stopped thinkin’ about those men that was hung. I really heard a gunshot. I heard it nice and clear.”
    â€œSo you’re sayin’ ya heard a gunshot? Let’s see, hand me my Mauser.”
    Anastasio Montañés rubbed his eyes, lazily stretched out his arms and legs, and stood up.
    They walked out of the hut. The sky was covered with sparkling stars, and a moon was rising like a thin scythe. The confused rustling of frightened women could be heard inside the small houses, as well as the sound of men who had been sleeping outside and were also waking now and grabbing their weapons.
    â€œYou idiot! You’ve broken my foot!”
    The voice was heard clearly and distinctly nearby.
    â€œWho goes there?”
    The sound echoed from boulder to boulder, from hill crest to hill dale, until it was lost in the distance and silence of the night.
    â€œWho goes there?” Anastasio repeated in a louder voice, cocking the bolt of his Mauser.
    â€œI’m with Demetrio Macías!” the answer came from close by.
    â€œIt’s Pancracio!” Quail said, relieved. Then, no longer concerned, he rested the butt of his rifle on the ground.
    Pancracio was leading a young fellow covered entirely in dirt, from his American felt hat down to his worn-out, clumsy shoes. He had a fresh stain of blood on one of the legs of his trousers, near his foot.
    â€œWho’s this curro ?” 1 Anastasio asked.
    â€œThere I am, keeping guard, when I hears a sound in the bushes, so I shout: ‘Who goes there?’ And this guy answers: ’Carranzo.’ 2 So I think, ‘Carranzo, I don’t know no bird with no name like that.’ So I say, here goes your Carranzo, and I filled one of his legs with lead.”
    Pancracio smiled and looked around with his beardless face, waiting for his applause.
    At that point the unknown man spoke:
    â€œWho is the leader here?”
    Anastasio raised his head proudly, facing him.
    The young man lowered his voice a bit.
    â€œWell, I too am a revolutionary. The Federales grabbed me in one of their levies, and I joined their files. But in the battle the day before yesterday I was able to desert, and I have come, on foot, looking for your group.”
    â€œOh, he’s a Federale!” said a number of men in response, looking at him with wonder.
    â€œOh, he’s one of those conservative mongrels!” Anastasio Montañés said. “Why didn’t you pump his head full of lead instead of his foot?”
    â€œWho knows what he’s up to. Says he wants to speak to Demetrio, that he’s got God knows what to tell ’im. But before he does anythin’ like that, there’s plenty a’ time for us to be doin’ whatever we wanna with ’im,” Pancracio said, raising his rifle and aiming it at the prisoner.
    â€œWhat kind of animals are you?” the unknown man demanded.
    But he was unable to say anything further because Anastasio slapped him across the face with the back of his hand, snapping the prisoner’s now-blood-drenched head backward.
    â€œKill the damned mongrel!”
    â€œHang ’im!”
    â€œBurn the Federale alive!”
    Shouting and howling and all worked up, they started to ready their rifles.
    â€œHush, hush. Quiet now! I think Demetrio is talking,” Anastasio said, urging them to calm down.
    Demetrio did as a matter of fact want to find out what