Perris rolled a cigarette, and smiled as he looked at Hervey. It was a
sickly smile, his lips being white and stiff. And in another, it might
have been considered a sign of fear. In Red Perris everyone there
knew it was simply the badge of a rising fury. They knew, by the same
token, that he was as dangerous as he had been advertised. Men whom
anger reddens are blinded by it; but those who turn pale never stop
thinking. Meantime, Red Jim looked at Hervey and looked at the
cowpunchers behind Hervey. It was not hard to see that in a pinch they
would be solid behind their foreman. They watched him with a wolfish
eagerness. Why they should be so instantly hostile he could not guess
but he was enough of a traveller to be prepared for strange customs
in strange places. There was only one important point: he would not
saddle the buckskin. Moreover, at sight of their solid front and their
aggressive sneers he grew fighting hot.

"How gents come in these parts," he said with deliberate scorn, "I
dunno. And I don't care a damn. If they brush their foreman's boots
and saddle his hosses for him, they can go ahead and do it. But I
come up here to catch a wild hoss that the gents in the Valley of the
Eagles couldn't get. That's my job, and nothing else."

The growl of his cowpunchers was sweetest music to the ear of Lew
Hervey. He glanced at them as much as to say: "You see what I got on
my hands?" Then he stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"You're young, kid," he declared. "When you grow up you'll know
better'n to talk like this. But cowpunchers we ain't going to make no
trouble for you. But I'll tell you short, Perris, you'll go out and
rope that hoss or else roll your blankets and clear out. Understand?
I was joking when I asked you to rope the hoss first. I wanted to see