The gaucho as he drew near, raised his hand to his sombrero, in greeting, then spurred his horse ahead.
After a moment of hesitation don Carlos also started off at top speed, cut across the gaucho’s path, and obliged him to stop.
“Who gave you permission to come on my property?” he shouted in a voice that was shrill and shaking with anger.
Manos Duras made no attempt to reply, merely looking at the rancher with the same silent insolence he used towards others. His bold eyes however avoided meeting those of don Carlos. As though offering excuses, he replied in a low tone that he was aware of the fact that he had no right to pass through there without the owner’s permission, but the short-cut eliminated a long and round-about bit of the road to la Presa. Then, as a final explanation he added:
“Besides, don Carlos lets everyone ride through here....”
“Everyone but you,” was the aggressive reply. “If ever I find you again on my land, you’ll get one of these bullets!”
This reply put an end to the gaucho’s assumed meekness. He looked contemptuously at Rojas, and said with slow distinctness,
“You are an old man, that’s why you talk to me like that.”
Don Carlos took his revolver from his belt and pointed it at the gaucho’s breast.
“And you are nothing but a cattle thief.... Why they should all be afraid of you is more than I can understand. But if ever again you steal one of my steers, old man as I am, I’ll make you pay for it!”