"I feel all right now, Compadre." Demetrio pretended he had not heard him. "I had fever, and I sweated like a horse all night, but I feel quite fresh today. The thing that's irking me hellishly is that Goddamn wound. Can Venancio to look after me." "What are we going to do with the tenderfoot we caught last night?" Pancracio asked. "That's right: I was forgetting all about him." As usual, Demetrio hesitated a while before he reached a decision. "Here, Quail, come here. Listen: you go and find out where's the nearest church around here. I know there's one about six miles away. Go and steal a priest's robe and bring it back." "What's the idea?" asked Pancracio in surprise. "Well, I'll soon find out if this tenderfoot came here to murder me. I'll tell him he's to be shot, see, and Quail will put on the priest's robes, say that he's a priest and hear his confession. If he's got anything up his sleeve, he'll come out with it, and then I'll shoot him. Otherwise I'll let him go." "God, there's a roundabout way to tackle the question. If I were you, I'd just shoot him and let it go at that," said Pancracio contemptuously. That night Quail returned with the priest's robes; Demetrio ordered the prisoner to be led in. Luis Cervantes had not eaten or slept for two days, there were deep black circles under his eyes; his face was deathly pale, his lips dry and colorless. He spoke awkwardly, slowly: "You can do as you please with me.... I am convinced I was wrong to come looking for you." There was a prolonged silence. Then: "I thought that you would welcome a man who comes to offer his help, with open arms, even though his help was quite worthless. After all, you might perhaps have found some use for it. What, in heaven's name, do I stand to gain, whether the revolution wins or loses?" Little by little he grew more animated; at times the languor in his eyes disappeared. "The revolution benefits the poor, the ignorant, all those who have been slaves all their lives, all the unhappy people who do not even suspect they are poor because the rich who stand above them, the rich who rule them, change their sweat and blood and tears into gold..." "Well, what the hell is the gist of all this palaver? I'll be damned if I can stomach a sermon," Pancracio broke in. "I wanted to fight for the sacred cause of the oppressed, but you don't understand ... you cast me aside.... Very well, then, you can do as you please with me!" "All I'm going to do now is to put this rope around your neck. Look what a pretty white neck you've got." "Yes, I know what brought you here," Demetrio interrupted dryly, scratching his head. "I'm going to have you shot!" Then, looking at Anastasio he said: "Take him away. And ... if he wants to confess, bring the priest to him." Impassive as ever, Anastasio took the prisoner gently by the arm. "Come along this way, Tenderfoot." They all laughed uproariously, when a few minutes later, Quail appeared in priestly robes.