Dade listened to the voices shouting orders and greetings without as the vaqueros hurried here and there in excited preparations for the event.  He judged that not another man in the valley was in bed at that moment, unless sickness held him there; and for that very reason he pulled a blanket snugger about his ears and tried to make himself believe that he was enjoying to the full his laziness.  He had earned it; and last night had been the first one of deep, unbroken sleep that he had had since that moonlit night when Manuel and Valencia rode in haste to meet this surly-browed fellow before him.

Jack did not wipe off the scowl with the lather, and Dade began to observe him more critically; which he had not before had an opportunity to do, for the reason that Jack had not returned to the ranch the night before until Dade was in bed and asleep.

“Say, you don’t want to let the fellows outside see you looking like that,” he remarked, when Jack had yanked a horn comb through his red-brown mop of hair as if he were hoeing corn.

“Why?” Jack turned on him truculently.

“Well, you look a whole lot like a man that expects a licking.  And I don’t see any excuse for that; you’re sure to win, old man.  I’d bet my last shirt on that.”  Which was Dade’s method of wiping off the scowl.

“Say, Dade,” Jack began irrelevantly, “I’m going to use Surry.  You don’t mind, do you?  He’s the best horse I ever threw a rope off from, without any exceptions.  I’ve been training him up a little, and I tell you what, Surry’s going to have a lot to do with that duel.”

Dade sat up in bed as if he had been pulled up.  “Jack, are you going to make it a sure-enough duel?” he asked anxiously.

“Why?” Jack’s eyes hardened perceptibly.  “That’s what Jose wants.”

“Do you want it?” Dade scowled absent-mindedly at the wall, felt the prick of an unpleasant thought, and glanced sharply at Jack.

“Say, I feel sorry for Jose,” he began straightforwardly.  “As a man, I’d like him fine, if he’d let me.  And, Jack, you’ve got everything coming your way, and—­well, seems like you might go easy on this fight, no matter what Jose wants.  He’s crazy jealous, of course—­but you want to recollect that he has plenty of cause.  You’ve stepped in between him and a girl he’s known all his life.  They were practically engaged, before—­”

“I don’t know as Jose’s love affairs interest me,” put in Jack harshly.  “Do you care if I use Surry?  I kinda took it for granted it would be all right, so I went ahead and trained him so I can bank on him in a pinch.”

“Of course you can use him.”  That Dade’s hesitation did not cover more than a few seconds was proof of his absolute loyalty to Jack.  Not another man living could have used Surry in a struggle such as that would be; a struggle where the danger was not all for the rider, but must be shared equally by the horse.  Indeed, Dade himself would not have ridden him in such a contest, because his anxiety lest Surry should be hurt would have crippled his own dexterity.  But Jack wanted to ride Surry, and Dade’s lips smiled consent to the sacrifice.