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years, make a bundle smuggling drugs, and once they're millionaires, they retire. Some other lousy generals take over from them, and history repeats itself. You think they give a shit what happens to a few lousy Indians?'

We came to level ground and a herd of at least thirty horses. A man stood nearby. The boy walked over to him. Karl shouted to the boy, asking which way we should go, while pointing in what he thought was the right direction. The boy nodded, without looking back at us. We left him and went on.

After walking for another two hours, nudging Flaca along, we came to a ranch. More mud huts and another stone building, just like the earlier ranch. More grassy pastures and grazing cows. It was all so similar and yet different.

We hadn't even entered the yard when we met a little man dressed in tatters holding out his hand and asking for a cigarette. He was drooling. Hell! It was the same dwarf. Could he have left after we did and still gotten here ahead of us?

The young woman once again came out of the two-storey building. We glared at Karl. We had been huffing along for more than two hours for nothing, walking in a circle and coming back to the same ranch through a different gate.

The señora laughed in amusement. She said we would be welcome to spend the night at the ranch and even invited us to supper. She showed us to a room with two rickety beds. One would be for