"He's worth two of Manuel, to my notion." "Valencia?
He's not half the man old Manuel is.

He gambles worse than an Injun, and never has anything more than his riding outfit and the clothes on his back, they tell me.

And he fights like a catamount when the notion strikes him; and it doesn't seem to make much difference whether he's got an excuse or not.

He's a good deal like you, in that respect," he added, with that perfect frankness which true friendship affects as a special privilege earned by its loyalty.
"Manuel's got tricky eyes," countered Jack.

"He's the kind of Spaniard that will 'Si, Senor,' while he's hitching his knife loose to get you in the back.