But truly I did my best; a full hour behind
Manuel I started, and have walked ten miles of the sixty. The saints
know well--"
Don Andres checked his apologies with a wave of the hand, and sat down
somewhat heavily in his favorite chair, as if he were tired, though the
day was but fairly begun.
"We do not doubt your zeal," he observed dryly. "Give the letter to the
senor and begone to your breakfast. And," he added impressively, "wait
you and rest well until the answer is ready; for perchance there will be
further need to test the kindness of the saints--and the speed of a
horse."
Valencia fumbled within his sash and brought forth the small, folded
square of paper, went up two steps and placed it in Jack's upturned
palm, gave Jack also a glance more kindly and loyal than ever he had
received from that minx, Teresita, and went away to the vaqueros'
quarters. Valencia had learned nothing from the meeting, except that the
don was in one of his rare fits of ill-temper.
"Yet I know that there will be a duelo," he comforted himself with
thinking, as he limped wearily across the patio. "The face of the patron
is black because of it, and a little devil-flame burns in the eyes of
the senorita because for love of her men would fight--(Such is the way
of women, to joy in those things which should give them, fear!)--and
the senora's face is sagged with worry, and Senor Jack--ah, there is the
fighting look in those eyes! Never have I seen them so dark: like the
bay when a storm is riding upon the wind.
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