“All right, then.  That horse is sure a wonder, Dade.  Sensible?  You never saw anything like it!  I never saw a horse so sensitive to—­well, I suppose it’s muscular reactions that I’m unconscious of.  I’ve tried him out without a bridle on him; and, Dade, I can sit perfectly still in the saddle, and he’ll turn wherever I make up my mind to go!  Fact.  You try it yourself, next time you ride him.  So I’ve cultivated that faculty of his, this last month.

“And besides, I’ve got him trained to dodge a rope every time.  Had Diego go out with me and try to lasso me, you know.  I had one devil of a time with the Injun, too, to make him disrespectful enough to throw a rope at me.  But Surry took to it like a she-bear to honey, and he’s got so he can gauge distances to a hair, now, and dodge it every pass.  I’m going to ride him to-day with a hackamore; and you watch him perform, old man!  I can turn him on a tin plate, just with pressing my knees.  That horse will—­”

“Say, you’re stealing my thunder,” drawled Dade, grinning.  “That’s my privilege, to sing Surry’s praises.  Haven’t I told you, right along, that he’s a wonder?”

“Well, you told the truth for once in your life, anyway.  Get up, you lazy devil, and come out and take a look at him.  I’m going to have Diego give him a bath, soon as the sun gets hot enough.  I’ve got a color scheme that will make these natives bug their eyes out!  And Surry’s got to be considerably whiter than snow—­”

“Huh!” Dade was watching him closely while he listened.  For all Jack’s exuberance of speech, there was the hard look in his eyes still; and there was a line between his eyebrows which Dade had never noticed there before, except as a temporary symptom of anger.  He had, Dade remembered, failed to make any statement of his intentions toward Jose; which was not like Jack, who was prone to speak impulsively and bluntly his mind.  Also, it occurred to Dade that he had not once mentioned Teresita, although, before the rodeo his talk had been colored with references to the girl.

“Oh, how’s the senorita, by the way?” Dade asked deliberately.

“All right,” returned Jack promptly, with a rising inflection, “Are you going to get up, or shall I haul you out by the heels?”

Dade, observing an evasion of that subject also, did some hard thinking while he obediently pulled on his clothes.  But he said not a word more about the duel, or Jose’s love-tragedy, or Teresita.

Since the first flush of dawn the dismal squeal of wooden-wheeled ox-carts had hushed the bird songs all up and down El Camino Real, and the popping of the drivers’ lashes, which punctuated their objurgations to the shambling oxen, told eloquently of haste.  Within canopies formed of gay, patchwork quilts and gayer serapes, heavy-jowled, swarthy senoras lurched resignedly with the jolting of the carts, and between whiles counseled restive senoritas upon the subject of deportment or gossiped idly of those whom they expected to meet at the fiesta.