loquently.

"I see you're taking life pretty serious," Dade retorted, moving farther
along the log. "Sit down, Jose, and be sociable. Nothing like seeing the
point of a joke, if there is one. Do you reckon anything's worth all the
heart-burnings you're indulging in? Some things are tough; I've waded
kinda deep, myself, so I know. But there's nothing you can't get over,
with time and lots of common sense, except being a sneak--and being
dead. To me, one's as bad as the other, with maybe first choice on
death. You aren't a sneak, and I don't see why you hanker to be dead.
What do you want to fight to the death for?"

[Illustration: "An accident it must appear to those who watch"]

Jose did not sit down beside Dade, but he came a little closer, "Why do
I want to fight to the death? I will tell you, Senor; I am not ashamed.
Since I was a child I have loved that senorita whom I will not name to
you. Only last Christmas time the senora, her mother, said I must wait
but a year longer till she was a little older. They would keep their
child a little longer, and truly her heart is the heart of a child. But
she knew; and I think she waited also and was happy. But look you,
Senor! Then comes a stranger and steals--

"Ah, you ask me why must I fight to the death? Senor, you are a man;
perchance you have loved--for of a truth I see sometimes the sadness in
your eyes. You know that I must fight thus. You know that to kill that
blue-eyed one is all there is left to do. Me, I could have put him out
of the way before now, for there are many knives ready to do me the
service. Kill him I shall, Senor; but it shall be in fight; and if the
senorita sees--good. She shall know then that at least it is not a
coward or a weakling who loves her. Do you ask why--"

Dade's hands went out, dismissing the question. "No, I don't ask another
blamed thing. Go ahead and fight. Fight to kill, if that's the only
thing that will satisfy you. You two aren't the first to lock horns over
a woman. Jack seems just as keen for it as you are, so I don't reckon
there's any stopping either one of you. But it does seem a pity!"

"Why does it seem a pity?" Jose's tone was insistent.

"It seems a pity," Dade explained doggedly, "to see two fine fellows
like you and Jack trying to kill each other for a girl--that isn't worth
the life of either one of you!"

In two steps Jose confronted him, his hand lifted to strike. Dade,
looking up at him, flicked the ashes f