For my life, which you also refused to take, I--cannot thank you." Jack looked at him intently.

"You will thank me," he said grimly, "later on." Jose's face went white.

"Senor, you do not mean--" "I do mean--just that." "But, Senor--" There are times when pride drops away from the proudest man and leaves him weak to the very core of him; weak and humbled beyond words.
Big Jerry Simpson saved that situation from becoming intolerable.

With Moll's great ears flopping solemnly to herald his approach, Jerry rode up, perfectly aware that he brought a murmur of curiosity from those who saw his coming.
For Jerry was leading Manuel by the ear; Manuel with his hands tied behind him with Jerry's red bandanna; Manuel with his lips drawn away from his teeth in the desire to kill, and his eyes sullen with the impotence of that desire.
"Sa-ay," drawled Jerry, when he came up to the little group, "what d'ye want done with this here greaser that fired on Jack?
Some of the fellers over there wanted to take him out and hang him, but I kinda hated to draw attention away from Jack's p'formance--which was right interesting.
Bill Wilson, he reckoned I better fetch him over here and ask you fellers about it; Bill says this mob of greasers might make a fuss if the agony's piled on too thick, but whatever you say will be did." With his unoccupied hand he helped himself to a generous chew of tobacco, and spat gravely into the dust.
"Fer as I'm concerned," he drawled lazily, "I'm willin' to help string him up.

He done as dirty a trick as ever I seen, and he done it deliberate.