s feet and relieved the
girl of the tray which he placed on the desk.

"I am obliged," he said, with a touch of a sneer. "The services of a major
domo and a beautiful waitress are more than I expected."

"If you ask me, I'd say it was more than you deserve," replied Matt,
tersely. "I'm going out to sit on the stairs. If the lady wants to stop
and visit with you she can, but don't you try no monkey tricks because
they won't go down. I'm heeled."

Pachuca shrugged his shapely shoulders, seated himself and began to eat.

"I am hungry," he admitted. "I have had what you call a hard day's work."

"I wish," said the girl, severely, "that you'd tell me why you do such
things? You're a gentleman--not a bandit."

"Of course I'm not a bandit." Pachuca's composure appeared to be deserting
him. "You do not seem to understand--you Americans--that Mexico is our
country and that we must deal with its political situations independently
of you and your affairs."

"Oh," innocently, "I didn't know that political situations demanded
blankets and victrola records."

"You must make allowances for my people. They are poor and ignorant."

"It isn't the people we complain about. They only do what you tell them
to. Why should you come and tell them to stop working for us?"

"In your country it is only the walking delegate who does that?" grinned
Pachuca.

"That's different. This wasn't a strike. These men didn't want to stop
work."

"My dear girl, you seem to have lost sight of the fact that a revolution
is taking place. It is their duty to stop working and to fight."

"It always seems to be their duty to fight and they never get anything out
of it!"

"They do get something out of it. They got their land when they overthrew
Diaz. With Carranza, they got a new constitution. With Obregon, they will
get peace and a good government."

"Then you are for Obregon?"

"Naturally. But I must have men and horses and munitions. I--Juan
Pachuca--cannot fight in the ranks."

"I don't see why not," said Polly, candidly. "My brother fought in the
ranks and he's a college man. He didn't mind."

"Oh, well, in America--that is different! You have no ideas as to family.
I beg your pardon, what I mean is, that your people are different."

"Well, I hope we are," replied Polly, piously. "But I'm afraid some of us
aren't as different as we ought to be."

"Now we are even," said the Mexican, showing his white teeth. "And you
know why I took your