Charlie's face was flushed and his breath alcoholic; he was a little drunk.

At a corner table they conferred, drinking whisky.
"You will know him now, the snake!" Charlie 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.