(Passes the bottle, fills DON JOSE'S glass,
and then his own. DON JOSE recoils in astonishment.) I looks
toward ye, ole man. (Tosses off liquor.)
Don Jose (aside). This familiarity! He IS a gentleman. Bueno!
(Aloud.) She was thrown from her horse; her skirt caught in the
stirrup; she was dragged; you saved her life. You--
Sandy (interrupting, confidentially drawing a chair to the table,
and seating himself). Look yer! I'll tell you all about it. It
wasn't that gal's fault, ole man. The hoss shied at me, lying
drunk in a ditch, you see; the hoss backed, the surcle broke; it
warn't in human natur for her to keep her seat, and that gal rides
like an angel; but the mustang throwed her. Well, I sorter got in
the way o' thet hoss, and it stopped. Hevin' bin the cause o' the
hoss shyin', for I reckon I didn't look much like an angel lyin' in
that ditch, it was about the only squar thing for me to waltz in
and help the gal. Thar, thet's about the way the thing pints.
Now, don't you go and hold that agin her!
Don Jose. Well, well! She was grateful. She has a strange
fondness for you Americans; and at her solicitation I gave you--
YOU, an unknown vagrant--employment here as groom. You comprehend,
Diego. I, Don Jose Castro, proprietor of this rancho, with an
hundred idle vaqueros on my hands,--I made a place for you.
Sandy (meditatively). Umph.
Don Jose. You said you would reform.
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