Don Jose. I do not comprehend you (coldly).

Sandy. Suppose he loves that gal, and will take her as she stands,
without a cent, or hide or hair of yer old cattle.

Don Jose (scornfully). Suppose--a miracle! Hark ye, Diego! It is
now five years since I have known your countrymen, these smart
Americanos. I have yet to know when love, sentiment, friendship,
was worth any more than a money value in your market.

Sandy (truculently and drunkenly). You hev, hev ye? Well, look
yar, ole man. Suppose I REFUSE. Suppose I'd rather go than act as
a spy on that young gal your darter! Suppose that--hic--allowin'
she's my friend, I'd rather starve in the gutters of the Mission
than stand between her and the man she fancies. Hey? Suppose I
would--damn me! Suppose I'd see you and your derned old rancho in--
t'other place--hic--damn me. You hear me, ole man! That's the
kind o' man I am--damn me.

Don Jose (aside, rising contemptuously). It is as I suspected.
Traitor. Ingrate! Satisfied that his scheme has failed, he is
ready to abandon her. And this--THIS is the man for whom she has
been ready to sacrifice everything,--her home, her father! (Aloud,
coldly.) Be it so, Diego: you shall go.

Sandy (soberly and seriously, after a pause.) Well, I reckon I had
better. (Rising.) I've a few duds, old man, to put up. It won't
take me long. (Goes to L., and pauses.)

Don Jose (aside). Ah! he hesitates! He is changing his mind.