But Captain Fernando at the head of the column turned and roared: "Come here, meester!" The big man was grinning with delight. "You shall ride with me," he shouted, clapping me on the back. "Drink, now," and he produced a bottle of _sotol_ about half full. "Drink it all. Show you’re a man." "It’s too much," I laughed. "Drink it," yelled the chorus as the Tropa crowded up to see. I drank it. A howl of laughter and applause went up. Fernando leaned over and gripped my hand. "Good for you, _compañero_!" he bellowed, rolling with mirth. The men crowded around, amused and interested. Was I going to fight with them? Where did I come from? What was I doing? Most of them had never heard of reporters, and one hazarded the opinion darkly that I was a Gringo and a Porfirista, and ought to be shot. The rest, however, were entirely opposed to this view. No Porfirista would possibly drink that much _sotol_ at a gulp. Isidro Amayo declared that he had been in a brigade in the first Revolution which was accompanied by a reporter, and that he was called _Corresponsal de Guerra_. Did I like Mexico? I said: "I am very fond of Mexico. I like Mexicans too. And I like _sotol_, _aguardiente_, _mescal_, _tequila_, _pulque_, and other Mexican customs!" They shouted with laughter. Captain Fernando leaned over and patted my arm. "Now you are with the men (_los hombres_.) When we win the Revolucion it will be a government by the men,—not by the rich. We are riding over the lands of the men. They used to belong to the rich, but now they belong to me and to the _compañeros_." "And you will be the army?" I asked. "When the Revolucion is won," was the astonishing reply, "there will be no more army. The men are sick of armies. It is by armies that Don Porfirio robbed us." "But if the United States should invade Mexico?" A perfect storm broke everywhere. "We are more _valiente_ than the Americanos—The cursed Gringos would get no further south than Juarez—Let’s see them try it—We’d drive them back over the Border on the run, and burn their capital the next day...!" "No," said Fernando, "you have more money and more soldiers. But the men would protect us. We need no army. The men would be fighting for their houses and their women." "What are you fighting for?" I asked. Juan Sanchez, the color-bearer, looked at me curiously. "Why, it is good, fighting. You don’t have to work in the mines...!" Manuel Paredes said: "We are fighting to restore Francisco I. Madero to the Presidency." This extraordinary statement is printed in the program of the Revolution. And everywhere the Constitutionalist soldiers are known as "Maderistas." "I knew him," continued Manuel, slowly. "He was always laughing, always." "Yes," said another, "whenever there was any trouble with a man, and all the rest wanted to fight him or put him in prison, Pancho Madero said: ’Just let me talk to him a few minutes. I can bring him around.’"