If he feared a hostile reception, he was soon reassured. Jose and Manuel
speedily appeared, galloping side-by-side through the lush yellow and
green. Jose's manner was irreproachable, his speech carefully
considered. If his eyes lacked their usual warm glow of friendliness,
it was because he could not bring that look at will to beam upon the
guest whom his heart failed to welcome. He invited Dade to dinner with
him; and Dade, hoping to establish a better understanding between them,
accepted.
Dade had not lived half his life amongst the dark-skinned race for
nothing. He sipped the home-made wine with Jose, talked of many things
in his soft, easy-natured drawl, and by letting his inner friendliness
with the whole world look out of his eyes when they dwelt upon his host,
went Jose one better in courtesy. And Jose, sauntering afterward across
the patio to the porch, met Manuel face to face and paid tribute to Don
Andres' new majordomo in a single sentence.
"If all gringos were like this Senor Hunter, one could tolerate their
coming to live amongst us," he said frankly.
"Si," grudged Manuel. "But then, he is not all gringo. Many years he
dwelt with our people in Texas, so that he has the Spanish ways; but me,
I want none of him."
Jose laughed without much mirth to lighten the sound. "The blue-eyed
one--did you find from the vaqueros why he did not come? He need not
have been afraid of me--not if his fame was earned honestly.
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