At least, he could do it when he had
not seen her for several hours, which made rodeo time a relief for which
he was grateful.
What hurt him most, just now, was the constraint between him and Jack;
time was when Jack would have told him immediately of any unpleasant
meeting with Jose. It never occurred to Dade that he himself had
fostered the constraint by his moody aloofness when he was fighting the
first jealous resentment he had ever felt against the other in the years
of their constant companionship. An unexpected slap on the shoulder
almost sent him headlong.
"Say, old man, I didn't mean it," Jack began contritely, referring
perhaps to his petulant speech, rather than to his mode of making his
presence known. "But--come over here in the shade, and let's have it out
once for all. I know you aren't stuck up over being majordomo, but all
the same you're not the old Dade, whether you know it or not. You go
around as if--well--you know how you've been. What I wanted to say is,
what's the matter? Is it anything I've said or done?"
He sat down on the stone steps of a hut used for a storehouse and
reached moodily for his smoking material. "I know I didn't say anything
about running up against Jose--but it wasn't anything beyond a few
words; and, Dade, you've been almighty hard to talk to lately. If you've
got anything against me--"
"Oh, quit it!" Dade's face glowed darkly with the blood which shame
brought there.
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