Mr. Ainsa, a very young man with the hint of a black mustache over his boyish mouth, clicked his heels together and bowed deeply. He expressed himself as delighted, but did not offer to shake hands. He was so stiff that Dick wanted to ask him whether the poker he had swallowed was indigestible.
"I am the bearer of a message to Mr. Richard Muir Gordon," he said with another bow.
"My name," acknowledged its owner. "You ain't missed a letter of it. Must have been at the christening, I expect."
"A message from Don Manuel Pesquiera."
"Good enough. That's right friendly of him. How's the don?"
And Dick, the sparkle of malicious humor gleaming in his eye, shook Mr. Ainsa warmly by the hand, in spite of that gentleman's effort to escape.
The messenger sidestepped as soon as he could, and began again, very red: "Don Manuel considers himself deeply insulted, and desires through me, his friend, to present this note."
Dick looked at the envelope, and back at the youth who had handed it to him, after which he crowded in and pump-handled the other's arm again.
"That's awfully good of him, Mr. 'Tain't-so."
"My name is Ainsa, at your service," corrected the New Mexican.
"Beg pardon--Ainsa. I expect I hadn't ought to have irrigated the don so thorough, but it's real good of him to overlook it and write me a friendly note. It's uncommon handsome of him after I disarranged his laundry so abrupt."
"If the señor will read the letter--" interrupted the envoy desperately.
"Certainly. But let me offer you something to drink first, Mr. Ain't-so."
"Ainsa."
"Ainsa, I should say. A plain American has to go some to round up and get the right brand on some of these blue-blooded names of yours. What'll it be?"
"Thank you. I am not thirsty. I prefer not." With which Mr. Ainsa executed another bow.
"Just as you say, colonel. But you'll let me know if you change your mind."
Dick indicated a chair to his visitor, and took another himself; then leisurely opened the epistle and read it. After he had done so he handed it to Davis.
"This is for you, too, Steve. The don is awfully anxious to have you meet Mr. Ainsa and have a talk with him," chuckled Gordon.
"'To arrange a meeting with your friend,' Why, it's a duel he means, Dick."
"That's what I gathered. We're getting right up in society. A duel's more etiquettish than bridge-whist, Steve. Ain't you honored, being invited to one. You're to be my second, you see."
"I'm hanged if I do," exploded the old miner promptly.