great, Valencia. Of a truth, the man is loco. What
think you, Valencia? He had the right to choose the weapons--and Jose
believed that he would choose those pistols of which you make so much
talk. Madre de Dios! What says the blue-eyed one, then?--and laughed in
my face while he spoke the words! 'Go tell Don Jose I will fight him
whenever and wherever he likes; and for weapons I choose riatas.' Heard
you anything--"

"Riatas!" Valencia's jaw dropped an inch before he remembered that
Manuel's eyes were sharp and eager to read the thoughts of a man in the
twitching muscles of his face.

"Si, riatas!" Manuel's whole fat body shook with laughter. "Even you,
who are wholly bewitched by those gringos, even you are dismayed! Tell
me, Valencia, have you seen him lasso anything?"

But Valencia, having pulled himself together, merely lifted his
shoulders and smiled wisely, so that even Manuel was almost deceived
into believing that Valencia's faith was great because it was built upon
a secret knowledge of what the blue-eyed one could do.

"Me, I heard you boasting to those San Vincente vaqueros," Manuel
accused, shifting the talk to generalities. "And the Senor Hunter boasts
also that the blue-eyed one is supremo with the riata, as he is with
everything else!" The tone of Manuel was exceeding bitter. "Well, he
will have the chance to prove what he can do. No gringo can come among
us Californians and flap the wings and crow upon the tule thatch for
naught. There has been overmuch crowing, Valencia. Me, I am glad that
boaster must do something more than crow upon the thatch, Valencia!"

"Si, there has been overmuch crowing," Valencia retorted, giving to his
smile the lift that made it a sneer, "but the thatch has not been of
Picardo tules. Me, I think they grew within hearing of the mission bells
of Santa Clara! And the gallo [rooster] which crows is old and fat, and
feeds too much upon the grapes that are sour! Adios! I must haste to
give congratulations to the Senor Jack, that he will have opportunity to
wring the necks of those loud-crowing gallos of the Pacheco thatches."

Whereupon he picked up his saddle and walked on, very straight in the
back and patently unashamed of the injustice of his charge; for it was
the crowing of Valencia himself beside the San Vincente camp-fire that
had brought Manuel with the message, and Valencia knew that perfectly
well.

The family of Don Andres had been breakfasting upon the wide vera