He sneered down at the ragged soldiers from his saddle. "Well, this is a fine-looking crowd to take a city with," he said. "But we’ve got nobody else down here. Go in when you hear the bugle." Pulling cruelly on the bit, so that his big horse reared straight up and whirled on his hind legs, Fierro galloped off rearward, saying as he went, "Useless, those simple fools of Contreras——" "Death to the Butcher!" said a man furiously. "That murderer killed my _compadre_ in the streets of Durango—for no crime or insult! My _compadre_ was very drunk, walking in front of the theater. He asked Fierro what time it was, and Fierro said, You ——! How dare you speak to me before I speak to you first——" But the bugle was blowing, and up they got, grabbing their guns. The tag game tried to stop, but couldn’t. Furious card players were accusing each other of stealing the deck. "_Oiga_, Fidencio!" cried one soldier. "I’ll bet you my saddle I come back and you don’t! This morning I won a nice bridle from Juan——" "All right! _Muy bien_! My new pinto horse...." Laughing, joking, rollicking, they swept out of the shelter of the houses into the rain of steel. They scuttled awkwardly up the street, like little brown animals unused to running. Billowing dust veiled them and a hell of noise.... *CHAPTER XIII* *A NIGHT ATTACK* Two or three of us had a sort of camp beside the ditch far up along the alamos. Our car, with its food supply, clothes and blankets, was still twenty miles back. Most of the time we went without meals. When we could manage to beg a few cans of sardines or some flour from the commissary train we were lucky. Wednesday one of the crowd had managed to get hold of tinned salmon, coffee, crackers and a big package of cigarettes; and as we cooked dinner Mexican after Mexican, passing on his way to the front, dismounted and joined us. After the most elaborate exchange of courtesies, in which we had to persuade our guest to eat hugely of the dinner we had painfully foraged for ourselves, and he had to comply out of politeness, he would mount and ride away without gratitude, though full of friendliness.