The vaqueros were saddling their mounts and fairly bubbling with a purely animal joy in the open; and Dade, his cigarette sending up a tiny ribbon of aromatic smoke as if he were burning incense before the altar of the soul of him that looked steadfastly out of his eyes, walked among them with that intangible air of good-fellowship which is so hard to describe, but which carries more weight among men than any degree of imperious superiority.  Valencia looked up and flashed him a smile as he came near; and Pancho, the lean vaquero with the high beak and the tender heart, turned to see what Valencia was smiling at and gave instant glimpse of his own white teeth when he saw Dade behind him.

“To-day will be hot, Senor,” he said.  “Me, I wish we were already at Tres Pinos.”

“No, you don’t,” grinned Dade, “for then you would not have the Sunal rancho before you, to build hopes upon, but behind you—­and hope, they say, is sweeter than memory, Pancho.”

Pancho, being ugly to look upon, liked to be rallied upon the one senorita in the valley whose eyes brightened at sight of him.  He grinned gratifiedly and said no more.

A faint medley of sounds blended by distance turned heads towards the east; and presently, breasting the mustard field that lay level and yellow to the hills, came Jose’s squad of vaqueros, with Jose himself leading the group at a pace that was recklessly headlong, his crimson sash floating like a pennant in the breeze he stirred to life as he charged down upon them.

“Only for the silver trimmings, you looked like a band of warlike Injuns coming down on us with the sun at your back,” laughed Dade, as Jose swung down near him.  “They’re riders—­the Indians back there on the plains; and when they pop over a ridge and come down on you like a tidal wave, your backbone squirms a little in spite of you.  The way your vaqueros parted and galloped around our camp was a pretty good imitation of their preliminary flourishes.”

“Still, I do not come in war,” Jose returned, and looked full at the other.  “I hope that we shall have peace, Senor Hunter; though one day I shall meet that friend of yours in war, if the saints permit.  And may the day come soon.”

“Whatever quarrel you may have with Jack, I hope it will not hinder us from working together without bad feeling between us.”  Dade threw away his cigarette and took a step nearer, so that the vaqueros could not hear.

“Don Jose, I know you don’t like a gringo major domo to lead Don Andres’ vaqueros on rodeo.  I don’t blame you Californians for being prejudiced against Americans, because you’ve been treated pretty shabbily by a certain class of them.  But you’re not so narrow you can’t see that we’re not all alike.  I’d like to be friends, if you will, but I’m not going to apologize for being a gringo, nor for being here in charge of this camp.  I didn’t choose my nationality, and I didn’t ask for my job.  I’ll give you a square deal, and I want you to know that if there’s any grudge between us, it’s all on your side.”