Insurgent Mexico by John Reed

Of course, I took up quarters at the cuartel. And right here I want to mention one fact. Americans had insisted that the Mexican was fundamentally dishonest-that I might expect to have my outfit stolen the first day out. Now for two weeks I lived with as rough a band of ex-outlaws as there was in the army. They were without discipline and without education. They were, many of them, Gringo-haters. They had not been paid a cent for six weeks, and some were so desperately poor that they couldn't boast sandals or serapes. I was a stranger with a good outfit, unarmed. I had a hundred and fifty pesos, which I put conspicuously at the head of my bed when I slept. And I never lost a thing. But more than that, I was not permitted to pay for my food; and in a company where money was scarce and tobacco almost unknown, I was kept supplied with all I could smoke by the compañeros. Every suggestion from me that I should pay for it was an insult.

The only thing possible was to hire music for a baile. Long after Juan Sanchez and I rolled up in our blankets that night, we could hear the rhythm of the music, and the shouts of the dancers. It must have been midnight when somebody threw open the door and yelled: "Meester! Oiga, meester! Are you asleep? Come to the baile! Arriba! Andale! "Too sleepy! " I said. After some further argument the messenger departed, but in ten minutes back he came. "El Capitan Fernando orders you to come at once! Vamonos! " Now the others woke up. "Come to the baile, meester! " they shouted. Juan Sanchez sat up and began pulling on his shoes. "Now we're off! " said he. "The meester is going to dance! Captain's orders! Come on, meester! "I'll go if all the Tropa does," I said. They raised a yell at that, and the night was full of chuckling men pulling on their clothes.