the ex-rebels have been with the government forces long enough to get new rifles and several rounds of ammunition, they trek to the mountains to be welcomed by their old chief with a handshake and an enthusiastic hug, the customary cordial greeting between Mexican friends.
One day while I was in Mexico City several officials of the British Embassy were motoring through one of the suburbs. Approaching a garrison they saw a soldier, sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette. As they passed he shouted: "Stop," and other words which were so mumbled they could not be understood.
The automobile, which had passed the man, backed to within a few feet of him and the chauffeur asked what was wanted. Instead of answering, the soldier, who was evidently intoxicated, continued to puff, and gazed at the foreigners. After waiting several minutes and receiving no explanation the automobile advanced. Immediately the soldier jumped up, recovered his balance, and started towards the barracks for his rifle. The Englishmen huddled into their seats, the chauffeur added gasoline, and before the rebel could fire the party was several hundred yards away.
There being no other route to the city the foreigners had to return the same way three hours later. Reaching the garrison they saw both sides of the highway lined by a company of soldiers. A captain, standing in the middle of the road, held
