harlie asked.

"I would know him in the dark, senor," was the reply.

They spoke in Spanish, since young Menocal's companion knew no other
tongue. The latter was a newcomer to Kennard, of the name of Alvarez.
He had come up from across the line, where he had been first with
Carranza, and then with Zapata in his black troop, and then with
Pancho Villa. He already had considerable reputation in the low
Mexican quarter of the town: he had participated in many fights and
raids "down there"; he was fearless; he could use a gun; he had many
killings to his credit. When earlier in the day Charlie had made
private inquiry of the saloon-keeper, an old friend, concerning a man
of nerve that he could engage who would ask no questions, Alvarez was
pointed out to him.

Presently an agreement was reached between them and Charlie produced
his check-book and a fountain-pen.

"Here's a check for one hundred dollars," he said, writing. "Come to
Bartolo, get you some blankets and food, and camp somewhere near. From
time to time we'll meet and I'll tell you what's to be done. There's a
saloon at Bartolo, if you get thirsty. Another hundred dollars will be
yours when the job is finished, perhaps more. Meantime, you will act
before others as if you did not know me. Here's the check."

Alvarez rose and walked to the bar.

"Is this money; a hundred dollars?" he inquired of the Mexican
proprietor of the saloon.

"One hundred dollars, yes," said the latter, with an assuring smile.
"Made payable to you, Alvarez. Good? Good at any bank, good here at my
saloon, good as gold. Better than gold, Alvarez, because easier to
carry. Do you wish the money for it?"

The Mexican ex-bandit jingled some dollars in his trousers' pockets.

"I have enough to eat and drink," said he. "If the paper is good, if
you will give me gold for it, then I will wait until I return. As you
say, it's not so heavy to carry."

"Bring it to me when you return. Mr. Menocal is very wealthy, very
rich. He has much land and many sheep. Besides, he owns a bank full of
gold and silver. The paper is good."

Alvarez was impressed. He stood in thought.

"Those sheep and that bank full of money! In Mexico we would form a
company of revolutionists and help ourselves," he said.

"That isn't the custom here," was the reply.

Alvarez again stared at the check, then folded it, bit the edge with
his teeth, placed it in a small leather bag suspended under his shirt
by a cord abo