“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.  What’s the real reason why you want to leave?”

The real reason came again to the doorway sixty feet away and looked out impatiently to where the senors were talking so earnestly and privately; but Dade would have died several different and unpleasant deaths before he would name that reason.  Instead: 

“It will be mighty disagreeable for Don Andres, trying to keep things smooth,” he said.  “And it isn’t as if he were stuck for a majordomo.  Manuel has turned against me from pure jealousy.  He opened his heart, one night when we were alone together, and told me that when Carlos Pacorra went—­and Manuel said the patron would not keep him long, for his insolence—­he, Manuel, would be majordomo.  He’s mad as the deuce, and I don’t blame him; and he’s a good man for the place; the vaqueros like him.”

“You say he’s quit?”

“Yes.  He got pretty nasty, and the don has gone to pay him off.”

“Well, what good would it do for you to turn down the offer, then?  Manuel wouldn’t get it, would he?”

“No-o, he wouldn’t.”

“Well, then—­oh, thunder!  Something ought to be done for that ingrowing modesty of yours!  Dade, if you pass up that place, I’ll—­I’ll swear you’re crazy.  I know you like it, here.  You worked hard enough to convert me to that belief!”

A sudden thought made him draw a long breath; he reached out and caught Dade by both shoulders.

“Say, you can’t fool me a little bit!  You’re backing up because you’re afraid I may be jealous or something.  You’re afraid you’re standing in my light.  Darn you, I’ve had enough of that blamed unselfishness of yours, old man.”  The endearing smile lighted his face then and his eyes.  “You go ahead and take the job, Dade.  I don’t want it.  I’ll be more than content to have you boss me around.”  He hesitated, looking at the other a bit wistfully.  “Of course, you know that if you go, old boy, I’ll go with you.  But—­” The look he sent towards Teresita, who appeared definitely upon the porch and stood waiting openly and impatiently, amply finished the sentence.