"We are going over to attend the funeral of the American girl who was shot Saturday night in the Rio Bravo Hotel," answered Pearl. "What other business have you to attend to over there?" "None." "You will pardon, Senorita, but may I suggest that as soon as possible you will return to the American side--the rebels have left Chihuahua City by train, and they may arrive at any time from one o'clock to six." "Thanks, we will," answered Pearl, as the official motioned to the driver to drive on. "I bet there will be some wild carrying on here with the rebels, when they do arrive," laughed Evelyn. "I wonder if there will be much fighting?" "Sure, there will be fighting, and lots of screaming and running. The way they carry on you think there is twice as much fighting as there really is." "I guess we had better try and get back before the rebels arrive. What do you think, Ev?" "Well, after the funeral we will come back. We won't waste any time." "Come right in, Senoritas," said the Mexican undertaker, as he bowed low to them. "You have made the necessary arrangements that we called you about this morning?" "Si, Senorita." "How much is the whole bill?" asked Pearl, as she fished into her bag. "Four hundred Pesos, Senorita." "How much American?" "That will be two hundred dollars, Senorita, and that is everything. I have already had the grave dug, and the time you said over the phone is the time the funeral will take place. I, Senorita, have taken the privilege of calling a Padre--was that right?" "That's O. K. by me, don't you think, Ev?" "Sure." "Here's your money," as she handed him two hundred dollars. "The good God will be kind to you, Senorita, for this good deed," as Pearl and Evelyn went out. "Hell, I need a drink, don't you, Ev?" "Yeah--a good stiff one," as they climbed in the car. "Driver, take us to the Central, and come in and have a shot with us." "Oke, Sister," answered the driver. They turned on the Sixteenth of September Street, and had to stop to let troops pass, some short, some tall, but none with uniforms that fit, except the officers, who were perfectly groomed, with beautiful uniforms that would have done credit to a rear Admiral of anybody's country, and as they marched past, sullen dirty faces showed no sign of expression, of joy, of madness, chagrin, nor contempt--they were like so many dirty brown masks, that hide so much thievery, murder, and cowardice underneath. "Do the rebels look anything like this?" asked Pearl, as they passed. "Just the same--clothes may be different, but that means nothing. These men that just marched past may be on the rebel side before sundown--they are just as willing to fight for one side as the other, as long as it promises to be profitable." "I can't understand why they are always having these revolutions down here."