, there would be no jeering."

"And for that will I fight them all!" Valencia twisted his arm a little,
in the hope that Dade would let go his wrist. "Ah, Senor! Shall a man
not be true to his friends?"

"Si, he shall be true, and he shall be sensible. Is the Senor Jack a
weakling, that he cannot fight for himself?"

"But he is not here! If he were--" The tone of him gloated over the
picture of what would happen in that case.

"There shall be no fighting." If Dade's voice was quiet, it did not
carry the impression of weakness, or indecision. "Come to your own fire,
Valencia. If it is necessary to fight for the Senor Allen--I am also his
friend."

"You are right. There shall be no fighting." Dade started and glanced at
Jose, standing beside him. "If the Senor Allen thinks himself the best,
surely it is I, who hold the medalla that calls me el vaquero supremo,
who have the right to question his boast; not you, amigos!"

"Who's the best vaquero, the bravest and the best in California?"
queried a voice--the voice of the singer, who had come up with others to
see what was going on here. And at his elbow another made answer boldly:

"Don Jose Pacheco!"

Jose smiled and lifted his shoulders deprecatingly at the tribute, while
fifty voices shouted loyally his name. Dade, pressing his hand upon
Valencia's shoulder, led him back into the dancing shadows that lay
between the fires.

"Let it go," he urged. "Don Jose holds the medal, and he's entitled to
the glory. We must keep peace, Valencia, or else I must leave the rodeo.
Personal quarrels must wait."

"Si, Senor, personal quarrels must wait," assented Jose, again coming up
unexpectedly behind them. "I but wish to say that I regret the bad
manners of those caballeros, whose best excuse is that they are my
friends. I hope the senor does not accuse me of spreading the news of
the senor's boast. There are others, as the senor well knows, who heard
it before even it came to my ears."

"It doesn't matter," Dade repeated. "They'll have their joke, and I
don't blame them for putting the joke on a stranger, especially when
he's a gringo--and absent."

"The senor is wise as he is loyal," stated Jose and bowed himself into
the shadows. "Buenos noches, Senor."

"Good-night," answered Dade, speaking English to show he was not ashamed
of it; and rolled himself in his blankets as a deliberate hint to
Valencia that he did not want to discuss the incident, much to that
one's di