The country folk, wishing to put a title of respect before his name, called him Don Madariaga.
"Comrade," he said to Desnoyers one day when he happened to be in a good humor--a very rare thing for him--"you must have passed through many ups and downs.

Your lack of silver may be smelled a long ways off.

Why lead such a dog's life?
Trust in me, Frenchy, and remain here! I am growing old, and I need a man." After the Frenchman had arranged to stay with Madariaga, every landed proprietor living within fifteen or twenty leagues of the ranch, stopped the new employee on the road to prophesy all sorts of misfortune.
"You will not stay long.

Nobody can get along with Don Madariaga.

We have lost count of his overseers.