That’s just one story. Had it been João Brandão, I’m not sure how it would have turned out, but the man I dealt with was José Gato, with someone else it might have been different. Later, the gang moved to Vale de Reis, you city folk just can’t imagine how wild it is around there, grottoes and caves and evil-looking swamps, no one else would go anywhere near, not even the guards, they didn’t dare. The gang set up camp there, and they had a warning system in Monte da Revolta, whenever the guards appeared, Manuel da Revolta’s mother would stick a pole up the chimney with a rag tied on top, and that was the sign. One of the gang always kept an eye on that chimney, and as soon as he saw that old rag, he would warn the others and they would all vanish, disappear without trace. The guards never caught any of them. Those of us who knew the signal, when we were out in the fields working, we’d say, Something’s up.
Let me tell you now about Marcelino. He was the overseer in Vale de Reis and owned a famous rifle that the boss had bought him so that he could shoot any member of José Gato’s gang he caught stealing. But before I tell you about that, I want to tell you another story about a rifle. Once, when Marcelino was out riding, José Gato ambushed him and, with his gun pointing straight at him, said mockingly, which was very much his style, Just open your arms nice and wide and I’ll take the rifle, and Marcelino had no alternative but to do as asked, however much it galled him. José Gato was a small man, but he had a very big heart. Then it was the turn of the five-shot rifle, you know how it is, you start telling one story and other stories get in the way. Marcelino was riding along a path, no one bothered to clear the paths then, they were too busy cutting cork and slicing it up into small pieces, so the undergrowth was really thick. Marcelino was riding proudly along with his five-shot rifle loaded with five cartridges, thinking, If anyone tries to attack me now, that’ll be their goose well and truly cooked, but José Gato was hiding behind a slender holm oak, aiming straight at him, Give me that rifle, I need it, and off he went. Later, the boss said to Marcelino, I’ll buy you a carbine, I don’t want you being made to look a fool, and Marcelino replied tartly, I don’t want a carbine, from now on, it’ll be just me and my stick, that’s the best way to keep watch.
Marcelino had no luck at all with rifles. He even lost the one he owned himself and kept at home. The swineherd’s dogs started barking, they could smell that something was up, and the swineherd went to Marcelino and said, The dogs are barking, there’s someone trying to steal the pigs. Marcelino immediately picked up his rifle and his cartridge box and stood there guarding the pigs. Now and then he fired a shot, and José Gato’s men, hiding in the bushes, knew that these shots were intended for them and responded, although without wasting much ammunition. And where was José Gato all this time, why, up on the roof, onto which he had climbed unnoticed and where he remained all night, crouched like a lizard so that no one would spot him, he was nothing if not bold. Come the morning, at daybreak or shortly afterward, just as it was beginning to grow light, and when any shots from the other side had long since ceased, Marcelino said, They must have run away, I’ll just go home and have my breakfast, I’ll be back in a jiffy. And the swineherd, whose own appetite was stirred by those words, thought, Yes, I’ll go and have a bite to eat as well, why not. With his enemies gone, José Gato jumped down from the roof, ah, I forgot to mention that Marcelino had left his rifle inside the swineherd’s hut, anyway, José Gato jumped down from the roof, took the rifle and the swineherd’s new boots and a blanket, perhaps they were short of those as well, and meanwhile, his companions, there were five of them at the time, grabbed a pig each and carried them off into the undergrowth. Sows are like us, they have a joint just here, and if you cut it, they can’t move, and that’s what happened with these, only about a hundred and fifty yards from the pen, if that. And with someone keeping watch all the time. The boars noticed the sows were missing, but went looking for them far away, down the road, and none of them thought of looking closer to home. That night, José Gato went to fetch the sows, and so Marcelino’s third rifle was lost.
There’s another, more important story. Marcelino was standing guard, without his rifle this time, for they had all been stolen, and José Gato decided to set about stealing the broad beans, which had all been harvested and were lying on the threshing floor. It was close to the gang’s current hideout which we found out was there only when we were felling trees in the area, by which time they had moved on. They had dug a deep ditch and carved out caves along the walls. There were some high hills all overgrown with willows, and they had cut a path through them, rather the way mongoose do, and created alcoves furnished with comfortable beds made out of reeds and twigs. Anyway, José Gato went out nightly to steal some of the beans, and Marcelino realized that someone had been taking them because some had been crushed underfoot and you could see the empty shells underneath. Marcelino said to himself,
