Good for you! Give me a job?"
"I'm not going to take it," said Dade. "I was going to ask you if you
want to pull out with me to-morrow."
Jack's jaw went slack. "Not going to take it!" He leaned against the
adobe wall behind him and stuck both hands savagely into his pockets.
"Why, you darned chump, how long ago was it that you talked yourself
black in the face, trying to make me say I'd stay? Argued like a man
trying to sell shaving soap; swore that nobody but a born idiot would
think of passing up such a chance; badgered me into giving in; and now
when you've got a chance like this, you--Say, you're loco!"
"Maybe." Dade's eyes went involuntarily toward the veranda, where
Teresita appeared for an instant, looking questioningly towards them.
"Maybe I am loco. But Manuel's mad because the don offered me the
place, and has quit; and he says half the vaqueros will leave, that
they won't work under a gringo."
Jack's indignant eyes changed to a queer, curious stare. "Dade Hunter!
If I didn't know you, if I hadn't seen you in more tight places than
I've got fingers and toes, I'd say--But you aren't scared; you never
had sense enough to be afraid of anything in your life. You can't
choke that down me, old man. What's the real reason why you want to
leave?"
The real reason came again to the doorway sixty feet away and looked
out impatiently to where the senors were talking so earnestly and
privately; but Dade would have died several different and unpleasant
deaths before he would name that reason.
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