THE MEXICAN GENERAL
181
Very casually Citron approached Paco and bending over him
he said, "You'd better sit up, you're making the boss mad."
"What's that," said Paco starting, "what's the matter? What
is it?"
"The boss is sore."
"At me? What have I done?"
"Slept at your post, it seems."
"Sleeping? I? Why that's nonsense. I just close my eyes a
minute and he gets mad."
"He didn't like it. You know how tight he can get around
the mouth."
"Yes, I know, like a film star." A red cloud spread on Paco's
forehead. "So he had you tiptoe over ..."
"Don't be angry with me, I'm just his messenger."
"I'm not angry."
"But you look it. Quiet yourself. Give me a cigarette."
Paco slipped a package of
V
irginias
out of the breast pocket
of his serge shirt. "He picks on me," he protested, "picks and
picks!"
"He's just nervous, he's had a hard time in the city. You were
in Iguala you don't know how much trouble the poor man had.
That's why he came up here to Patzcuaro, to get a rest. The strain,
you know, the fatigue of making so many statements and posing
for so many photographs. He suffered more than the
viejo
who
was killed."
"Oh, that's so, eh?" said Paco smiling. "Getting in his last
publicity."
"One must take one's opportunities with the public. Do you
think there are no other jobs besides that of
]efe?
Felipe is politi·
cally promising. He's been building a great career for himself
from his youth on and you wouldn't expect him to lose an oppor·
tunity. As his father's son ..."
"His father? What did he do?"
"A very great man- in Jalisco, of course, but a great man.
A friend of Madero."
Paco smiled up at Citron who spread his hands out before
him and looked at his nails."
"Also a friend of Obregon, Huerta, Carranza, Morones,
America, the peasants, anyone who would have him. A friendly
man. His son follows in his footsteps, didn't you know that?"
