Of course, Teresita could not know that they were discussing a brief but rancorous encounter which Jerry had had with Manuel that morning, when the two happened to meet farther down the valley while Manuel was riding his share of the rodeo circle.  Two of Jose’s men had been with Manuel, and their attitude had been “purty derned upstropolus,” according to Jerry. (Jack decided after a puzzled minute that the strange word which Jerry spoke with such relish must be Simpsonese for obstreperous.) They had, in fact, attempted to drive off three of Jerry’s oxen to the rodeo ground, and only the characteristic “firmness” of Jerry had prevented them from doing it.  Jemina, he said, had helped some when pointed at Manuel’s scowling face; but Jerry opined that he would hereafter take the twins along too when he rode out anywhere, and that he guessed he’d cut another loophole or two in his cabin walls.

All of these various influences had created an atmosphere which Teresita felt and resented without attempting to understand.  The big senor had not given her the smiles and the funny attempts at conversation which she had come to accept as a matter of course.  The pretty senora had not been as enthusiastic as she should have been, when Teresita showed her the ruby chain which, like a child, she had brought over for the pretty senora to admire.

Therefore, Jack’s lips found reason to tighten and cease their eager quivering for a kiss.  For Teresita twitched her shoulders pettishly and her reins dexterously, and so removed herself some distance from the kissing zone.

“No?  Well, I’ll have to depend on my good riata, then.  I’ll take that gentleman at twenty-five feet, and if I can get him to run right, I’ll heel him.  Don’t ride any closer, Teresita.”

He had not called her dulce corazon (sweetheart) as she had expected him to call her; he had not even insisted upon the kiss, but had given up altogether too tamely; and for that she rode closer to the bull in spite.  She even had some notion of getting in Jack’s way, and of making him miss if she could.  She was seventeen, you see, and she was terribly spoiled.

Jack had never made any attempt to study the psychological twists of a woman’s nature.  He contented himself with loving, and with being straightforward and selfish and a bit arrogant in his love, after the manner of the normal man.  It would never occur to him that Teresita was piqued because he had not called her sweetheart, and he straightway sinned more grievously still.

“Go back, the other way!  He’s liable to start in your direction,” he cried, intent upon her safety and his own whim to rope the beast.

Teresita deliberately kicked her horse and loped forward.

It would not be nice to say that bulls are like some humans, but it is a fact that they are extremely illogical animals, full of impulses and whims that have absolutely no relation to cause or effect.  This bull had not moved except to roll his eyes from one to the other of the riders.  If he meditated war he should, by all the bovine traditions of warfare, have bellowed a warning and sent up a whiff or two of dirt over his back, as one has a right to expect a pessimistic bull to do.  Instead of which he flung down his head and made an unexpected rush at Teresita—­and Jack had left his pistols at home.