The loop flecked Surry's crinkled tail and he fled on to the far end and stopped in two short, stiff-legged jumps.
As Jack coiled his riata and slid off he heard the caballeros yelling praise of Jose.

But he did not mind that in the least.

In that one throw he had learned Jose's method; the big loop, the overhead swirl--direct, bullet-swift, deadly in its aim.

He knew now what Dade had wanted to tell him--what it was vital that he should know.

And--he hugged the thought--Jose did not know his method; not yet.
A shot, and he was off again with his little loop.