"No, but you don't want to go to Heaven, either, do you? Or--well, you know what I mean. I don't know how much of a jar it would take to make this thing go off. A chuck-hole might do it." Pachuca, evidently depressed, relapsed into silence. It was growing colder and darker--would they never get there? However, she would not have been Polly had she kept still. "Senor Pachuca, what did you mean by requisitioning goods? You aren't working for the government, are you?" "No." "Has another revolution broken out?" "My dear young lady, Sonora has seceded and other states will follow. Mexico is about to throw off Carranza and his government. Is that clear?" "Pretty clear--only I don't understand why you should take our things." "I am raising a regiment. When it is complete I shall lead it into the field to fight for Mexico." "I see. That's why you wanted our men?" "A regiment means men, senorita." "And our blankets and money and guns and victrola records?" "Why not? You Americans make your profit from us, why should you not share in our obligations? Did your generals spare the South when you had your Civil War? War is not a pretty thing, senorita." "They were at war with the South and they took----" "Exactly. They took. An American has but one code of morals, and that is to take. I do not quarrel with it, I like it. I also take." Polly did not reply. She was tired and cold and she wanted to get home. Her hand was cramped and shaky--her threat had not been an idle one. She realized also that Pachuca for all his docility was only waiting the opportunity to turn the tables on her. He was a young man most fertile in expedients and it behooved her to be extremely vigilant. He would be quite capable of shooting up the wrong road and carrying her miles in a strange direction. The thought made her feel panicky. She tried to remember the turns in the road, only to realize that she had not seen the road--she had been in the bottom of the car, her head covered with a blanket when she had traveled it so short a time ago. Everything looked ghostly and unreal to her in the half light, while Pachuca, she firmly believed, could see in the dark with those handsome eyes of his quite as well as any family cat out for a run. "Go faster, please," she said, sharply, for wherever they were going it might be as well to get there before dark. "It's getting late and I'm cold." Obediently Pachuca swung into the next speed and the car bumped cheerfully along, the big lights casting a bewildering glare before them. "If I only knew where we were and what he has up his sleeve!" the girl groaned inwardly. "I know he has something because he isn't making any fuss. This road is rougher than it was when we came, too; he has taken a wrong turn--I know he has!" Pachuca, apparently resigned to his fate, began to hum melodiously. "Senor!" Polly's voice was sharp with apprehension and weariness. "Senorita?"