“What is it?” I asked of a man who was standing idle, watching the scene from the same side of the road as ourselves.

“Attack of American cavalry,” he said nonchalantly.

“Here!” I gasped.

“Yep, in about ten minutes:  soon as they are ready.”

“Where’s Villa?”

“It’s him they’re attacking.  They chase him here, see!  This is an ambush.  Villa rounds on them right here, and they fight to a finish!”

“Great heavens!” I exclaimed.  “How do you know that?”

“Know it?  Why because I seen it.  Ain’t they been trying it out for three days?  Why, I’d be in it myself only I’m off work.  Got a sore toe yesterday—­horse stepped on it.”

All this was, of course, quite unintelligible to me.

“But it’s right here where they’re going to fight?” I asked.

“Sure,” said the American, as he moved carelessly aside, “as soon as the boss gets it all ready.”

I noticed for the first time a heavy-looking man in an American tweed suit and a white plug hat, moving to and fro and calling out directions with an air of authority.

“Here!” he shouted, “what in h—­l are you doing with that machine gun?  You’ve got it clean out of focus.  Here, Jose, come in closer—­that’s right.  Steady there now, and don’t forget, at the second whistle you and Pete are dead.  Here, you, Pete, how in thunder do you think you can die there?  You’re all out of the picture and hidden by that there sage brush.  That’s no place to die.  And, boys, remember one thing, now, die slow.  Ed”—­he turned and called apparently to some one invisible behind the rocks—­“when them two boys is killed, turn her round on them, slew her round good and get them centre focus.  Now then, are you all set?  Ready?”

At this moment the speaker turned and saw Raymon and myself.

“Here, youse,” he shouted, “get further back, you’re in the picture.  Or, say, no, stay right where you are.  You,” he said, pointing to me, “stay right where you are and I’ll give you a dollar to just hold that horror; you understand, just keep on registering it.  Don’t do another thing, just register that face.”

His words were meaningless to me.  I had never known before that it was possible to make money by merely registering my face.

“No, no,” cried out Raymon, “my friend here is not wanting work.  He has a message, a message of great importance for General Villa.”

“Well,” called back the boss, “he’ll have to wait.  We can’t stop now.  All ready, boys?  One—­two—­now!”

And with that he put a whistle to his lips and blew a long shrill blast.

Then in a moment the whole scene was transformed.  Rifle shots rang out from every crag and bush that bordered the gully.