times, Lew!"

"So has Perris," answered Lew Hervey solemnly. "That slug of yours--when
the doctor cut it out of his leg he had it fixed up and now he wears it
for a fob so's he won't forget the gent that shot him down that night
when he wasn't armed!"

"Most like that's why he's practiced so much with a gun," muttered
Jordan. "He's been getting ready for me."

"Most like," said the gloomy Hervey, but his voice well-nigh trembled
with gratification.

The head of Jordan bowed again, but this time, as Hervey shrewdly
guessed, it was in thought, not in despair.

"Why," chuckled Jordan at last, "what we wasting all this fool time
about? You just slip back to the ranch and fire Perris."

In the favoring dark, Hervey threw back his head and made a grimace of
joy. Exactly as he had prefigured, this talk was going. Every card was
being played into his hand as though his wishes were subconsciously
entering and ruling the mind of the chief.

"I can't do it," he answered firmly.

"You can't? Ain't you foreman?"

"No," said Hervey, and a trace of bitterness came into his voice. "I
used to be. But you know as well as me that I'm only a straw boss now.