complete-guide

There was a sound of doors being beaten down and
forced open. The soldiers had already scattered through
the town, to gather together ammunition and saddles
from everywhere.
"We're going to bid Monico good morning," Demetrio
said gravely, dismounting and tossing his bridle to
one of his men. "We're going to have breakfast with
Don Monico, who's a particular friend of mine . . . ."
The general's staff smiled . . . a sinister, malign
smile. . . .
Making their spurs ring against the pavement, they
walked toward a large pretentious house, obviously that
of a cacique.
"It's closed airtight," Anastasio Montanez said, pushing
the door with all his might.
"That's all right. I'll open it," Pancracio answered,
lowering his rifle and pointing it at the lock.
"No, no," Demetrio said, "knock first."
Three blows with the butt of the rifle. Three more.
No answer. Pancracio disobeys orders. He fires, smashing
the lock. The door opens. Behind, a confusion of
skirts and children's bare legs rushing to and fro, pellmell.
"I want wine. Hey, there: wine!" Demetrio cries in an
imperious voice, pounding heavily on a table.
"Sit down, boys."
A lady peeps out, another, a third; from among black
skirts, the heads of frightened children. One of the
women, trembling, walks toward a cupboard and, taking
out some glasses and a bottle, serves wine.
"What arms have you" Demetrio demands harshly.