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. How have you kept your word?
You were drunk last Wednesday.

Sandy. Thet's so.

Don Jose. And again last Saturday.

Sandy (slowly). Look yer, ole man, don't ye be too hard on me:
that was the same old drunk.

Don Jose. I am in no mood for trifling. Hark ye, friend Diego.
You have seen, perhaps,--who has not?--that I am a fond, an
indulgent father. But even my consideration for my daughter's