Derrick replied, in broken Spanish, that he was looking for work.
The cowboy said, "Ingles," and nodded to one of his companions, who, with a sudden flush, said-- "Thought you were a fellow-countryman.

On the tramp, mate, eh?
Well, I've done that myself, and, between you and me, there's many a better job." He filled up Derrick's mug and eyed him with friendly questioning.
"What's your line ?" "Oh, anything," said Derrick, with a smile.

"Tramps can't be choosers.
You have a ranch here, I suppose ?" The other Englishman nodded.
"Yes, we're on Donna Elvira's ranch, three miles out." He jerked his head in a westerly direction, then looked round at his mates.

"Do you think there's any room for him ?" "Might be," replied one.

"He'd better go up and see Don Jose." The English cowboy translated this for Derrick, adding:-- "That's the overseer.