complete-guide

sierra. . . . If you only knew. . . . You may not believe
me but nothing strikes me right here. I don't know what
I miss but I know I miss something. I feel sad . . .
lost. . . ."
"How many hours' ride from here to Limon"
"It's no matter of hours; it's three days' hard riding,
Demetrio."
"You know," Demetrio said softly, "I feel as though
I'd like to see my wife again!"
Shortly after, War Paint sought out Camilla.
"That's one on you, my dear. . . . Demetrio's going to
leave you flat! He told me so himself; 'I'm going to get
my real woman,' he says, and he says, 'Her skin is white
and tender . . . and her rosy cheeks. . . . How beautiful
she is!' But you don't have to leave him, you know; if
you're set on staying, well--they've got a child, you know,
and I suppose you could drag it around. . . ."
When Demetrio returned, Camilla, weeping, told him
everything.
"Don't pay no attention to that crazy baggage. It's all
lies, lies!"
Since Demetrio did not go to Limon or remember his
wife again, Camilla grew very happy. War Paint had
merely stung herself, like a scorpion.
XI
Before dawn, they left for Tepatitlan. Their silhouettes
wavered indistinctly over the road and the fields
that bordered it, rising and falling with the monotonous,
rhythmical gait of their horses, then faded away in the
nacreous light of the swooning moon that bathed the
valley.
Dogs barked in the distance.