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. “Jose,” he said, “whose horse is the faster, yours or Antonio's?” “Mine,” promptly replied Jose. “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 Jose'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 Jose for his messenger, he went thus to work to make sure that he would urge his horse to its utmost speed. Whispering in Jose'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 Jose, elated. “You will see me back tomorrow by sundown.” “Not earlier?” asked Alessandro. “I thought by noon.” “Well, by noon be it, then,” said Jose. “The horse can do it.” “Have great care!” said Alessandro. “That will I,” replied Jose; and giving his horse's sides a sharp punch with his knees, set off at full gallop westward. “I have sent Jose with a message to Temecula,” said Alessandro, walking up to Fernando. “He will be back here tomorrow noon, and join you at the Ortega's the next morning.” “Back here by noon to-morrow!” exclaimed Fernando. “Not unless he kills his horse!” “That was what he said,” replied Alessandro, nonchalantly. “Easy enough, too!” cried Antonio, riding up on his little dun mare. “I'd go in less time than that, on this mare. Jose's is no match for her, and never was. Why did you not send me, Alessandro?” “Is your horse really faster than Jose's?” said Alessandro. “Then I wish I had sent you. I'll send you next time.” VII