If he could stir the horseman's blood in Jack's veins, he thought he might get him away from town.
"Haven't time right now, Dade.

I promised to meet a friend--" Dade shrugged his shoulders and painstakingly smoothed the hair tassel which dangled from the browband.

The Spaniard had owned a fine eye for effect when he chose jet black trappings for Surry, who was white to his shining hoofs.
"All right; I'll put him in somewhere till after dinner.

Then I'm going to pull out again.

I can't stand this hell-pot of a town--not after the Picardo hacienda." "I wonder," grinned Jack slyly, "if there isn't a senorita at Palo Alto ?" He got no answer of any sort.