XIII Someone plunged a knife Deep in my side. Did he know why? I don't know why. Maybe he knew, I never knew. The blood flowed out Of that mortal wound. Did he know why? I don't know why. Maybe he knew, I never knew. His head lowered, his hands crossed over the pommel of his saddle, Demetrio in melancholy accents sang the strains of the intriguing song. Then he fell silent; for quite a while he continued to feel oppressed and sad. "You'll see, as soon as we reach Lagos you'll come out of it, General. There's plenty of pretty girls to give us a good time," Blondie said. "Right now I feel like getting damn drunk," Deme- trio answered, spurring his horse forward and leaving them as if he wished to abandon himself entirely to his sadness. After many hours of riding he called Cervantes. "Listen, Tenderfoot, why in hell do we have to go to Aguascalientes?" "You have to vote for the Provisional President of the Republic, General!" "President, what? Who in the devil, then, is this man Carranza? I'll be damned if I know what it's all about." At last they reached Lagos. Blondie bet that he would make Demetrio laugh that evening. Trailing his spurs noisily over the pavement, Deme- trio entered "El Cosmopolita" with Luis Cervantes, Blondie, and his assistants. The civilians, surprised in their attempt to escape, re- mained where they were. Some feigned to return to their tables to continue drinking and talking; others hesitantly stepped up to present their respects to the commander. "General, so pleased! . . . Major! Delighted to meet you!" "That's right! I love refined and educated friends," Blondie said. "Come on, boys," he added, jovially draw- ing his gun, "I'm going to play a tune that'll make you all dance." A bullet ricocheted on the cement floor passing be- tween the legs of the tables, and the smartly dressed young men-about-town began to jump much as a woman jumps when frightened by a mouse under her skirt. Pale as ghosts, they conjured up wan smiles of obsequious ap- proval. Demetrio barely parted his lips, but his followers doubled over with laughter. "Look, Blondie," Quail shouted, "look at that man going out there. Look, he's limping." "I guess the bee stung him all right." Blondie, without turning to look at the wounded man, announced with enthusiasm that he could shoot off the top of a tequila bottle at thirty paces without aiming. "Come on, friend, stand up," he said to the waiter. He dragged him out by the hand to the patio of the hotel and set a tequila bottle on his head. The poor devil refused. Insane with fright, he sought to escape, but Blondie pulled his gun and took aim. "Come on, you son of a sea cook! If you keep on I'll give you a nice warm one!" Blondie went to the opposite wall, raised his gun and fired. The bottle broke into bits, the alcohol poured over the lad's ghastly face. "Now it's a go," cried Blondie, running to the bar to get another bottle, which he placed on the lad's head. He returned to his former position, he whirled about, and shot without aiming. But he hit the waiter's ear in- stead of the bottle. Holding his sides with laughter, he said to the young waiter: "Here, kid, take these bills. It ain't much. But you'll be all right with some alcohol and arnica." After drinking a great deal of alcohol and beer, Deme- trio spoke: "Pay the bill, Blondie, I'm going to leave you." "I ain't got a penny, General, but that's all right. I'll fix it. How much do we owe you, friend?" "One hundred and eighty pesos, Chief," the bartender answered amiably. Quickly, Blondie jumped behind the bar and with a sweep of both arms, knocked down all the glasses and bottles. "Send the bill to General Villa, understand?" He left, laughing loudly at his prank. "Say there, you, where do the girls hang out?" Blondie asked, reeling up drunkenly toward a small well- dressed man, standing at the door of a tailor shop. The man stepped down to the sidewalk politely to let Blondie pass. Blondie stopped and looked at him curiously, im- pertinently. "Little boy, you're very small and dainty, ain't you? . . . No? . . . Then I'm a liar! . . . That's right! . . . You know the puppet dance. . . . You don't? The hell you don't! . . . I met you in a circus! I know you can even dance on a tightrope! . . . You watch!" Blondie drew his gun out and began to shoot, aiming at the tailor's feet; the tailor gave a little jump at every pull of the trigger. "See! You do know how to dance on the tightrope, don't you?" Taking his friends by the arm, he ordered them to lead him to the red-light district, punctuating every step by a shot which smashed a street light, or struck some wall, a door, or a distant house. Demetrio left him and returned to the hotel, singing to himself: "Someone plunged a knife Deep in my side. Did he know why? I don't know why. Maybe he knew, I never knew."