Pepper Pyre

The so-called battle of Mazatlan last week turned out to have been hardly more than whoopee, though at one time 1,200 were erroneously described as dead. Some day however the pepper battle of Cocula ought to be famous. The town itself is unimportant, but there is a church, and last week there was a machine gun in the belfry--a federal gun. "Sangre de Dios!" cried the captain of a band of Insurrectos which had surprised this little federal outpost, "Blood of Christ, bring me chili, bring me peppers!" Armfuls and armfuls of dried chili were stacked on the windward side of the steeple by artful Insurrectos who took care to work under the eaves of the church, out of range of the machine gun. Then the pepper pyre was lighted. Thick clouds of oily, acrid, pepper smoke poured up to envelop the steeple, blind, gag, choke. Passed ten minutes. Then the bolts of the church door grated. Out to surrender filed a sorry, coughing, spitting, weepy little crew of federals. Their rebel captors, pious, had thus avoided the desecration of bursting open a church. Entering the sacred edifice with loud, exultant hosannahs and cries of "Christ is King" they sat down and soon partook of the feast of the Eucharist. Untroubled by the transitory rebel occupation of Cocula, General Calles wired to President Emilio Portes Gil: "I have the honor to inform you that the traitor Escobar (rebel generalissimo) continues to flee without fighting, and we continue our advance."