A swarm of naked brats infested the place; they were the colour of the
soil, most of them black, some fair, with blue eyes. As if already
they felt the degradation of their poverty, these urchins neither
shouted nor frolicked about the yard.
A few lasses of ten to fourteen were chatting in a group. Bizco, Vidal
and the rest of the gang gave chase to them around the patio. The
girls, half naked, dashed off, shrieking and shouting insults.
Bizco boasted that he had violated some of the girls.
"They're all _puchereras_ like the ones on Ceres Street," said
one of the Pirates.
"So they make pots, do they?" inquired Manuel.
"Yes. Fine pots, all right!"
"Then why do you call them _puchereras_?"
"Becau--" added the urchin, and he made a coarse gesture.
"Because they're a sly bunch," stammered Bizco. "You're awful simple."
Manuel contemplated Bizco scornfully, and asked his cousin:
"Do you mean to say that those little girls...?"
"They and their mothers," answered Vidal philosophically. "Almost all
of 'em that live here."
The Pirates left the Casa del Cabrero, descended an embarkment after
passing a high, black fence, and at the middle of Casa Blanca turned
into the Paseo de Yeserias.
They approached the morgue, a white structure near the river, situated
at the foot of the Dehesa del Canal.
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