He entered the low hut and sat on the packed earth floor and took a cigarette paper from his pocket. Presently, Salvador came in and sat against the wall opposite Raul, across the hut. Their feet almost touched. A broken candle lay on a termite-riddled chest that had been patched with a triangle of pine from which dangled a rusty padlock. Clothes and a folded hammock hung on pegs. There were no other furnishings. Outside, women gabbled over the corn sacks and children dashed about crying: "We've got corn.... Come, see the corn!" Salvador fished out paper and tobacco and paper and tobacco became a cigarette with magical dexterity. The two smoked silently. They had met in this hut quite a few times through the years. Last September they had weathered a hurricane's tail behind these walls. As Raul smoked, he kept seeing the musician's face and sensing his own obligations. "I want you to move to the house in a few days," Raul said. "I need your help, Salvador. I want you to turn out several carts; that means wheels, frames, and yokes." "But Don Fernando doesn't want them," said Salvador, and his lip pulled away from his cigarette with a scrap of paper clinging to it. What was Don Raul thinking? What kind of quarrel would come of this? "You do the job for me. I'm not waiting any longer. I've made up my mind to take over Petaca. We can't go on waiting and waiting. My father's day is over." Raul felt his voice was trembling, and tried to distract himself with the ash of his cigarette. "There will be a lot of trouble," said Salvador, skeptical of such a decision. "People will take sides. We'll have our hands full." "Are you afraid?" scoffed Raul. "Of course not, patrón." "Our people are hungry and sick," said Raul, staring at a stone embedded in the wall. "I'll do my part," said Salvador humbly, picking the shred of paper from his lip. "I know that we need new carts, that carts need repairing.... There's a lot that needs doing." "When you come to the house, bring Teresa. She can help us." "I'm glad to move, but I must continue to look after these people, too. They're my friends." A hunch of his shoulder indicated those who lived in the surrounding huts. "You can do both jobs," said Raul, and glanced at Salvador confidently. As Raul smoked, tasting the cigarette, liking the cool, rocky interior, a leghorn hen scratched, found a grub and beaked it in the sunlight. Raul felt easier in his mind. The new responsibility was a challenge; he had no doubt as to his administrative ability. Back against the rocks, he smoked in silence. He was on the side of freedom. As they headed for the hacienda house, Manuel rode in front. Raul called him: "Ride beside me, Manuel." Manuel checked his horse and gave his cartridge belt a yank. A buzzard circled above them. "I've made up my mind," Raul said, and his face brightened. "I've told Salvador that I will manage the hacienda from now on."