That although his wide outlook and his tolerance would
make friends of the gringos and of the new government--and quite
sincerely--still, the heart of him was true Spanish; and the fortunes of
his own blood-kin would send it beating fast or slow in sympathy, while
his brain weighed nicely the ethics of the struggle. Jack was not much
given to analyzing the inner workings of a man's mind and heart, but he
carried with him a conviction that it was so.
He hunted up Diego, and found him putting a deal of gratuitous labor
upon the silver trimmings of the new saddle. Diego being the peon in
whose behalf Jack had last winter interfered with Perkins, his gratitude
took the form of secret polishings upon the splendid riding-gear, the
cleaning of Jack's boots and such voluntary services. Now the silver
crescents which Teresita ridiculed were winking up at him to show they
could grow no brighter, and he was attacking vigorously the "milky way"
that rode behind the high cantle. Diego grinned bashfully when Jack's
shadow flung itself across the saddle and so announced his coming, and
stood up and waited humbly before the white senor who had fought for
him, a mere peon, born to kicks and cursings rather than to kindness,
and so had won the very soul of him.
"Bueno," praised Jack patronizingly. "Now I have some real work for you,
Diego, and it must be done quickly and well."
"Gracias, Senor," murmured Diego, abashed by such favor, and bowed low
before his god.
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