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." Jose smiled without effort. "You are honest, Senor Hunter, and
that pleases me well. I do not like you less because you are loyal to
your friend; but that friend I hope one day to kill." He looked at the
other questioningly. "Now I am honest also," his eyes said plainly.

"That's your affair and Jack's, as long as you don't try to get him when
he isn't looking."

"I am not an assassin, Senor Hunter," Jose retorted stiffly.

"Then we understand each other, I guess. Let's get these fellows
started. It's going to be hot, they say, and the horses are soft yet--at
least, ours are. We took them off pasture yesterday, most of them."

"Mine are the same, Senor. But to-day's marcha will be an easy one. To
Sunal Rancho is not far." He turned to remount and give the signal for
starting. And with a little of the pride that had impelled Jack to show
off his skill that day when the Captain of the Committee commanded him
to mount the buckskin, Jose also vaulted into the saddle without
deigning to touch the stirrup.

There was doubt in the senor's mind about his horsemanship being the
best in all California? Very good. The senor would have the opportunity
to judge for himself. Still, Jose had put to sleep most of his
antagonism towards Dade, and his attitude of friendliness was not so
deliberately forced as Manuel, watching eagerly for the first sign of a
clash, believed it to be.

CHAPTER XV

WHEN CAMP-FIRES BLINK

Down the valley they rode, gathering numbers to swell the cavalcade at
each ranch they passed. La Laguna Seca, San Vincente, Las Uvas sent
their quota of vaqueros, each headed by a majordomo and accompanied by
embaladors with the camp equipment and supplies packed upon steady-going
little mustangs. The bell-mares of the various herds jangled a chorus of
pleasant discords with their little, iron bells. The scent of the
mustard rose pungently under the trampling hoofs. At dusk, the
camp-fires blinked at one another through the purpling shadows; and the
vaqueros, stretched lazily upon their saddle blankets in the glow,
sti