"I stepped into a pulque-reeking cantina. A group of former Zapatistas invited me to join them--to have a glass. It was the open sesame. They chattered like children. Presented me with cornhusk cigarettes; told me tales of Zapata; his perfidy, his ruthlessness. "'Not more than 800 rebels were yet in arms when Zapata was killed,' they said. These, they explained, had ousted Zapata from leadership because he had refused to divide the loot with them. They told me of Zapata's former army of 30,000, blood-letting surianos and ayetes (unarmed men carrying ropes) who formed the rear guard to carry away the loot.... "Alongside the old church, where the patriot Morelos had more than a century ago made a successful stand against the Spaniards, a train was disgorging families returning to their homes, now that Zapata was gone. "A little man stepped out--the bishop of Cuernavaca, coming back to his diocese under the conciliatory program of Don Pablo after eight years' exile. "I rode into the country with Colonel Sanchez Neira and talked with the workmen in the field. They crowded round to pose for pictures. "They laughed and sang while they worked. "We rode to the headquarters of one of the 2,000,000 acre haciendas. The gigantic sugar mill, formerly worth more than $1,000,000, was a shell filled with debris. We rode to another mill. The same! Thirty-seven of them. All ruined, wrecked wantonly under Zapata's rule. "In the village of Youtopec I drank lemonade with Gen. Pilar Sanchez, while Zapata's captured band serenaded us. We rode down the Inter-Oceanic railway and viewed the right of way, strewn with wrecked rolling stock. We saw utterly demolished villages, the work of Zapata and communism. "I saw a bridge where train after train was dynamited, where Zapatistas had ruthlessly executed more than three thousand peaceful men, women and children passengers."
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