The long-memoried among them recall: the ranch of El Vergel, where they loudly demanded surrender. There was no answer. Crouching behind the fences, they waited for the cover of night to advance. With the butts of their guns they broke through an iron grating that protected nothing but a dilapidated courtyard. As they checked the corridors and broke open the potted plants searching for who knew what, they were followed by a skinny, mangy dog that howled piteously. There was no need to force open any lock. In the bedrooms they found the disorder of a sudden departure. Smashed, empty vials on the floor, broken furniture, closets in disarray. The Indians carried away several bundles of clothing but left them one by one along the road because they were very cumbersome. They also took a double-barreled shotgun.

Everyone had fled from Arbenza except a woman who could not walk because she was paralyzed. She greeted them with insults, stiff in her wooden chair. When one of them tried to stop her mouth she bit his hand. They hit her on the head until she lost consciousness, then left her there, unconscious, as they went through the house and its surroundings. They were tired, hungry. Enraged at having found nothing, they went back to the crippled woman’s room. She moaned weakly, and tried to grasp something with hands knotted by rheumatism. On one finger a gold ring gleamed. An Indian wanted to take it off, but the knuckles were too swollen. Another took a quick whack with his machete. Blood spattered the faces of those who were closest. They wiped it away with their sleeves and finished off the woman on the spot.

In Laguna Petej they overtook a group of children, their stomachs swollen and full of worms, dressed in rags through which their ribs could be counted. The children tried to escape, but as if it were a game. Their pursuers were numerous, and more agile than they. They harassed them with questions that the children, weeping in terror and fatigue, were incapable of answering. One Indian, an old man, told them he would take them to his village because he needed some help in the cornfield. Another wanted them top, and all the others quickly became embroiled in their dispute. Finally, one of them who was half drunk wanted to settle the problem: with quick thrusts of a spear he killed the children. Afterward, all of them headed off somewhere else, like sleepwalkers. It was noon and they were tormented by thirst.

In a meadow in Baalchen they found a she-goat grazing. Her udders were full and there seemed to be no young nearby to relieve them. They approached her cautiously so as not to frighten her—an unnecessary precaution because the she-goat was tame and allowed them to grab her and stand her in the best position for milking. When not a drop of milk was left, they killed her.