"I was going to ask you if you want to pull out with me to-morrow." Jack's jaw went slack.

"Not going to take it!" He leaned against the adobe wall behind him and stuck both hands savagely into his pockets.
"Why, you darned chump, how long ago was it that you talked yourself black in the face, trying to make me say I'd stay?
Argued like a man trying to sell shaving soap; swore that nobody but a born idiot would think of passing up such a chance; badgered me into giving in; and now when you've got a chance like this, you--Say, you're loco!" "Maybe." Dade's eyes went involuntarily toward the veranda, where Teresita appeared for an instant, looking questioningly towards them.
"Maybe I am loco.

But Manuel's mad because the don offered me the place, and has quit; and he says half the vaqueros will leave, that they won't work under a gringo." Jack's indignant eyes changed to a queer, curious stare.

"Dade Hunter! If I didn't know you, if I hadn't seen you in more tight places than I've got fingers and toes, I'd say--But you aren't scared; you never had sense enough to be afraid of anything in your life.

You can't choke that down me, old man.