at
well on him, "that you do return. My aide-de-camp shall
make a note of it. But at present you wish to be guided
to Francesco Villa?"

"If it is possible."

"Quite easy. He is at present near here, in fact much
nearer than he has any right to be." The General frowned.
"We found this spot first. The light is excellent and
the mountains, as you have seen, are wonderful for our
pictures. This is, by every rule of decency, _our_ scenery.
Villa has no right to it. This is _our_ Revolution"--the
General spoke with rising animation--"not his. When you
see the fellow, tell him from me--or tell his manager--that
he must either move his revolution further away or, by
heaven, I'll--I'll use force against him. But stop," he
checked himself. "You wish to see Villa. Good. You have
only to follow the straight track over the mountain there.
He is just beyond, at the little village in the hollow,
El Corazon de las Quertas."

The General shook hands and seated himself again at his
work. The interview was at an end. We withdrew.

The next morning we followed without difficulty the path
indicated. A few hours' walk over the mountain pass
brought us to a little straggling village of adobe houses,
sleeping drowsily in the sun.

There were but few signs of life in its one street--a
mule here and there tethered in the sun, and one or two
Mexicans drowsily smoking in the shade.

One building only, evidently newly made, and of lumber,
had a decidedly American appearance. Its doorway bore
the sign GENERAL OFFICES OF THE COMPANY, and under it
the notice KEEP OUT, while on one of its windows was
painted GENERAL MANAGER and below it the legend NO
ADMISSION, and on the other, SECRETARY'S OFFICE: GO AWAY.

We therefore entered at once.

"General Francesco Villa?" said a clerk, evidently
American. "Yes, he's here all right. At least, this is
the office."

"And where is the General?" I asked.

The clerk turned to an assistant at a desk in a corner
of the room.

"Where's Frank working this morning?" he asked.

"Over down in the gulch," said the other, turning round
for a moment. "There's an attack on American cavalry this
morning."

"Oh, yes, I forgot," said the chief clerk. "I thought it
was the Indian Massacre, but I guess that's for to-morrow.
Go straight to the end of the street and turn left about
half a mile and you'll find the boys down there."

We thanked him and withdrew.

We passed across the open plaza, and went d