"
From an impulse of careless kindness he said it, even though he had been
touched by the peon's anxiety for his welfare. But Diego's heart was
near to bursting with gratitude and pride; those last two words--he
would not have exchanged the memory of them for the gold medal itself.
That his blue-eyed god should address him, a mere peon, as "thy," the
endearing, intimate pronoun kept for one's friends! The tears stood in
Diego's black eyes when he heard; and Diego was no weakling, but a
straight-backed stoic of an Indian, who stood almost as tall as the
Senor Jack himself and who could throw a full-grown steer to the ground
by twisting its head. He bowed low and turned to fumble the sweet, dried
grasses in Surry's manger; and beneath his coarse shirt the feel of the
rawhide was sweeter than the embrace of a loved woman.
"You want to take mighty good care of this little nag of mine," Dade
observed irrelevantly, his fingers combing wistfully the crinkly mane.
"There'll never be another like him in this world. And if there was, it
wouldn't be him."
"I reckon it's asking a good deal of you, to think of using him at all."
For the first time Jack became conscious of his selfishness. "I won't,
Dade, if you'd rather I didn't."
"Don't be a blamed idiot. You know I want you to go ahead and use him;
only--I'd hate to see him hurt."
To Dade the words seemed to be wrenched from the very fibers of his
friendship.
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