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."
Jose's fingers fumbled the little corn-husk wrapping for the cigarette
he meant to make. "Senor, I repeat what I said to Manuel last night," he
said, after a pause. "If all gringos were like you, we Californians
would like the name better. But I thought you would stand by your
friend--"
"And so I will, to the last--" Not being of a theatrical temperament,
Dade balked at protestations of his loyalty. "Jack and I have worked and
fought and played elbow to elbow for a long time, Don Jose. But I don't
mix into his personal quarrels, unless I see him getting a crooked deal.
I believe you'll fight fair. The rest lies between you two."
"But is it not your boast that the Senor Allen is the supreme caballero
of California?" Jose was frank, at least, and Dade liked him the better
for it. "For three years I have held the medalla oro [gold medal] for
riding and for riata throwing; if it is true that you boast--"
Dade, as was the way of him when disgust or chagrin seized him, flung
out both hands impatiently. "I did say he couldn't be beat. I said it to
Manuel, when Manuel was sneering that Jack didn't know a good riata from
a bad one. I won't take it back. I haven't seen your work in the saddle,
Don Jose. I have seen Jack's, and I never saw any better. So, until I
do, I can believe he's the best, can't I?"
"Si.
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