But it was Ramona who, when Alessandro reached the doorway, stood there holding in her arms a huge smoking platter of the stew which had so roused poor Juan Can's longings; and it was Ramona who said, as she gave it into Alessandro's hands, “Take care, Alessandro, it is very full. The gravy will run over if you are not careful. You are not used to waiting on table;” and as she said it, she smiled full into Alessandro's eyes,—a little flitting, gentle, friendly smile, which went near to making him drop the platter, mutton, gravy, and all, then and there, at her feet.
The men ate fast and greedily, and it was not, after all, much more than an hour, when, full fed and happy, they were mounting their horses to set off. At the last moment Alessandro drew one of them aside. “José,” he said, “whose horse is the faster, yours or Antonio's?”
“Mine,” promptly replied José. “Mine, by a great deal. I will run Antonio any day he likes.”
Alessandro knew this as well before asking as after. But Alessandro was learning a great many things in these days, among other things a little diplomacy. He wanted a man to ride at the swiftest to Temecula and back. He knew that José's pony could go like the wind. He also knew that there was a perpetual feud of rivalry between him and Antonio, in matter of the fleetness of their respective ponies. So, having chosen José for his messenger, he went thus to work to make sure that he would urge his horse to its utmost speed.
Whispering in José's ear a few words, he said, “Will you go? I will pay you for the time, all you could earn at the shearing.”
“I will go,” said José, elated. “You will see me back tomorrow by sundown.”
“Not earlier?” asked Alessandro. “I thought by noon.”
