holding what they most desire.

"Sure, me." Valencia's tone was convincingly positive. "Manuel, she's go
lak hell for tella Senor Jack, Jose, she's lak for fight duelo. Sure.
That's right."

Dade swung back and stared moodily at the moon-painted pool where the
trout, deceived by the brightness into thinking it was day, started
widening ripple-rings here and there, where they flicked the surface
with slaty noses; and the wavering rings were gold-tipped until they
slid into the shadows and were lost. Dade watched three rings start in
the center and ripple the whole pool.

"How quick could you get to the rancho?" he asked abruptly, just as
Valencia's spirits were growing heavy with disappointment. "Could you
overtake Manuel, do you think?"

"Me, I could with the caballo which I have in mind--Noches--I could
pass Manuel upon the way, though he had two more hours the start of me!"
English was too slow now for Valencia's eagerness. "Manuel is fat, and
he is not young, and he will not ride too fast for his fat to endure.
Also he will stop at the Pacheco hacienda for breakfast, and to rest his
bones. Me, I can be at the rancho two hours before Manuel, Senor."

Valencia was not a deceitful young man, as deceit goes; but he wanted
very much to be sent in haste to the ranch, for he was itching with
curiosity to know the truth of this matter and if he were indeed right.
If Manuel had gone bearing a challenge from Jose to the Senor Jack, then
he wanted to know the answer as soon as possible. Also there was Felice,
the daughter of Carlos, whose lips lured him with their sweetness.
Truly, Valencia would promise any miracle of speed.

The pool lay calm as the face of a dead child. Dade stooped and tossed a
pebble into it as if that stillness troubled him. He took his cigarette
from his lips, looked at the glowing tip, and over it at the eager face
of Valencia.

"We mustn't let them fight. Take Noches and ride like the devil was at
your heels. Get there ahead of Manuel and tell Jack--" He stopped there
and bit his lips to hurry his slow thoughts. "Tell Jack he must go to
town right away, because--well, tell him Bill Wilson--"

Valencia's face had been lengthening comically, but hope began to live
again in his eyes. "If the senor would write what he wishes to say while
I am making ready for the start, he will then have more time to think of
what is best. The moon will ride clear to-night; and the sun will find
me at the rancho,