The burning plane Few days later while passing the river, at the Armería, we met Petronilo Flores. We went backwards but it was to late. It was like we were shot. Pedro Zamora passed at the front of us riding that male small horse, wich was the best animal I have known. And we passed after him in a bunch, stucked to the neck of our horses. In any case, there was a big killing. I did not realize soon because I get sunk in the river, below my dead horse, and the stream got both of us far away to shallow calm waters, the bottom full of sand. El llano en llamas. Juan Rulfo.