complete-guide

Meco, prancing forward on his horse, bared his white
glistening teeth, joking and kicking up like a clown.
"Hey, Pancracio," he asked with utmost seriousness,
"my wife writes me I've got another kid. How in hell is
that I ain't seen her since Madero was President."
"That's nothing," the other replied. "You just left her
a lot of eggs to hatch for you!"
They all laughed uproariously. Only Meco, grave and
aloof, sang in a voice horribly shrill:
"I gave her a penny
That wasn't enough.
I gave her a nickel
The wench wanted more.
We bargained. I asked
If a dime was enough
But she wanted a quarter.
By God! That was tough!
All wenches are fickle
And trumpery stuff!"
The sun, beating down upon them, dulled their minds
and bodies and presently they were silent. All day long
they rode through the canyon, up and down the steep,
round hills, dirty and bald as a man's head, hill after hill
in endless succession. At last, late in the afternoon, they
descried several stone church towers in the heart of a
bluish ridge, and, beyond, the white road with its curling
spirals of dust and its gray telegraph poles.
They advanced toward the main road; in the distance
they spied a figure of an Indian sitting on the embankment.
They drew up to him. He proved to be an unfriendly
looking old man, clad in rags; he was laboriously
attempting to mend his leather sandals with the help of a
dull knife. A burro loaded with fresh green grass stood
by. Demetrio accosted him.