eo, with a message to all from me,
Don Andres Picardo. I shall proclaim a fiesta, Senor--such a fiesta as
even Monterey never rivaled in the good old days when we were subject to
his Majesty, the King. A fiesta we shall have, as soon as may be after
the rodeo is over. There will be sports such as you Americanos know
nothing of, Senor. And there openly, before all the people, you shall
contest with Jose for a prize which I shall give, and for the medalla
oro if you will; for you shall have the privilege of challenging Jose,
the champion, to contest for the medalla. And there will be a prize--and
I doubt not--" He was thinking that there would probably be two prizes,
though only one which he could proclaim publicly.

"Myself, I shall write to Jose and beg him to consider the honor of his
father's name and of the name of his father's friend, and consent that
the duelo shall take place under the guise of sport. It must not be to
the death, Senor. Myself, I shall insist that it shall not be to the
death. Before all the people, and women, and ninos--and besides, I do
not wish that Jose should--" There again he checked himself, and Jack's
lips twitched at the meaning he read into the break.

"But if there should be an accident?" Jack's eyes probed for the soul of
the old man; the real soul of the Spanish grandee under the
broad-minded, easy-natured, Californian gentleman. He probed, and he
thought he found what he was seeking; he thought it showed for just an
instant in his eyes and in the upward lift of his white mustache.

"An accident would be deplorable, Senor," he said. "We will hope that
there will be no accident. Still, Jose is a very devil when the riata is
hissing over his head, and he rides recklessly. Senor, permit me to warn
you that Jose is a demon in the saddle. Not for nothing does he hold the
medalla oro."

"Gracias, Don Andres. I shall remember," said Jack, and walked away to
the stables.

He felt that the heart of Don Andres Picardo was warring with his
intelligence. That although his wide outlook and his tolerance would
make friends of the gringos and of the new government--and quite
sincerely--still, the heart of him was true Spanish; and the fortunes of
his own blood-kin would send it beating fast or slow in sympathy, while
his brain weighed nicely the ethics of the struggle. Jack was not much
given to analyzing the inner workings of a man's mind and heart, but he
carried with him a conviction that it