ning
critically each braided strand as he went. Manuel, he decided, was
right; the riata was perfect.

Diego, trailing two horsehair ropes and carrying a stout, smooth stick
of oak that had evidently been used before for the work, came running
after Jack as if he were going to put out a fire. Behind him trotted a
big, muscular peon who saw not half the reason for haste that blazoned
itself across the soul of Diego.

Thus the three reached the orchard, where Jack selected two pear trees
that happened to stand a few feet more than the riata length apart; and
Diego, slipping a hair rope through the hondo of the riata, made fast
the rope to a pear tree. The other end he tied to the second hair rope,
drew the riata taut and tied the rope securely to the second tree. He
picked up the oaken stick, examined it critically for the last time,
although he knew well that it was polished smooth as glass from its work
on other riatas, twisted the riata once around it and signed to the
other peon.

Each grasping an end of the stick and throwing all their weight against
it, they pushed it before them along the stretched riata. As they
strained toward the distant pear tree the rawhide smoked with the
friction of the stick in the twist. It was killing work, that first trip
from tree to tree, but Diego joyed in thus serving his blue-eyed god.
As for the other, Roberto, he strained stolidly along the line, using
the strength that belonged to his master the patron just as
matter-of-factly as he had used it since he was old enough to be called
a man.

Jack, leaning against a convenient tree in the next row, smoked a
cigarette and watched their slow, toilsome progress. Killing work it
was, but the next trip would be easier after that rendering of the stiff
tissue. When the stick touched the hondo, the two stopped and panted for
a minute; then Diego grasped his end of the stick and signaled the
return trip. Again it took practically every ounce of strength they had
in their muscular bodies, but they could move steadily now, instead of
in straining, spasmodic jerks. The rawhide sizzled where it curled
around the stick. They reached the end and stopped, and Jack commanded
them to sit down and have a smoke before they did more.

"It is nothing, Senor. We can continue, since the senor has need of
haste," panted Diego, brushing from his eyes the sweat that dripped from
his eyebrows.

"Not such haste that you need to kill yourselves at it," g