“The two who will fight with riatas for the medalla oro and for the prize which Don Andres offers to the victor,” he began, “have agreed upon certain rules which each has promised to observe faithfully, that skill rather than luck may be the chief factor in the fight.  These are the rules of the contest: 

“None but those two, Don Jose Pacheco and Senor Allen, will be permitted within the square we have marked off for them after the first signal shot is fired.  They will toss a coin for first position and will start from opposite ends of the ground.  At the signal, which will be a pistol shot, they will mount and ride with the center rope between them.  Upon meeting”—­he stopped long enough for a quick smile—­“they will try what they can do.  If both miss, they will coil their riatas and hang them from the horn, and ride on to the end; there they will dismount and wait for the second signal for starting.

“They will repeat these maneuvers until the contest is decided, one way or the other, but at no time will they start before the signal is given.

“Remember, no one else will be permitted inside the line, at any time; also, neither of the contestants may pass the dividing line unless he has the other at his mercy—­when—­he may cross if he chooses.”  It cost Dade something, that last sentence, but he said it firmly; repeated the rules more briefly in English and rode out of the square, a vaquero slackening the first riata of the line to leave a space for him to pass.  And as he went, there was nothing in his manner to show how ticklish he felt the situation to be.

Only, when he came upon Jack, just riding out from the stable upon Surry, his lips drew tight and thin.  But he merely waved his hand and went on to tell Jose that he wanted Manuel to give the signals, for then all would be sure that there would be no unfairness.

He was gone perhaps two minutes; yet when he returned with Manuel glowering beside him, that fenced area was lined four deep with horsemen all around; and so had they segregated themselves instinctively, friend with friend, that the northern side was a mass of bright colors to show that there stood the Spanish caballeros; and opposite them, a more motley showing and yet a more sinister one, stood the Americanos, with Bill Wilson pressed against the rope half-way down the line, and beside him big Jerry Simpson, lounging upon Moll, his black mule.

Instinctively, Dade rode around to them, beckoning Manuel to follow; and placed him between Jerry and Bill; explained that Manuel was to fire the starting signals, and smiled his thanks when Jerry promptly produced one of his “twins” and placed it in Manuel’s hands.

“P’int her nose in the air, mister, when you turn her loose,” he advised solemnly.  “She’s loaded fur b’ar!”

“Keep your eyes open,” Dade warned Bill Wilson when he turned to ride back; and Bill nodded understandingly.  Bill, for that matter, usually did keep his eyes open, and to such purpose that nothing escaped them.