"
Dade laughed. "Judge of riatas? You wait till you see him with one in
his hand!"
Manuel's teeth shone briefly, but the smile did not come from his
heart. "Me, I shall surely bring the senor a riata worthy even of his
skill," he declared sententiously, as he walked away with his bridle
slung over his arm and his back very straight.
"That sounded sarcastic," commented Jack, looking after him. "What's
the matter? Is the old fellow jealous?" Dade flicked his cigarette
against the trunk of the oak to remove the white crown of ashes, and
shook his head. "What of?" he asked bluntly. "Half your trouble, Jack,
comes from looking for it. Manuel's a fine old fellow. I stayed a few
days with him here when I first left town, and rode around with him.
He's straight as the road to heaven, and I never heard him brag about
anything, except the goodness of his 'patron,' and the things some of
his friends can do. I'll have to ask you to saddle up for me, Jack;
this arm of mine's pretty stiff and sore this morning. Watch how
Surry's trained! You wouldn't believe some of the things he'll do."
He turned towards the horse, feeding knee-deep in grass and young
mustard in the opening farther down the slope, and whistled a long,
high note. The white head went up with a fling of the heavy mane, to
perk ears forward at the sound. Then he turned and came towards them
at a long, swinging walk that was a joy to behold.
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