He had looked, had Jose, and
had seen her smile; but he saw that it was not at him she smiled, but at
Jack. It is true, the smile may have been merely scornful; but Jose was
in no mood for nice analysis, and the hurt was keen enough because she
smiled at all, and it made his mood a savage one.
Jack was all white and red save for the saddle, which was black with
silver trimmings; and Surry, milk white from ears to heel, served to
complete the picture satisfyingly. Diego must have put an extra crimp in
mane and tail, for the waves were beautiful to behold; he had surely
polished the hoofs so that they shone; and nature had done the rest,
when she made Surry the proud, gentle, high-stepping animal he was. Jack
wore breeches and jacket of soft, white leather--and none but Bill
Wilson knew what they had cost in time, trouble, and money. A red, silk
sash was knotted about his middle; the flaming, crimson tie fluttered
under his chin; and he was bareheaded, so that his coppery hair lifted
from his untanned forehead in the breeze, and made many a senorita's
pulse quicken admiringly. For Jack, think what you will of him
otherwise, was extremely good to look upon.
"Heads for Don Jose!" A Mexican dollar, spun high in air from Dade's
fingers, glittered and fell straight. Three heads bent to see which side
came uppermost, and thousands of necks craned futilely.
"Don Jose will choose his starting-point," Dade called out.
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