“You ain’t changed that much, Jordan.  Look at Howlands.  He hadn’t seen you for eight years.  He knew you right off.”

“Ay,” growled Jordan.  “That’s true enough.  But what makes you so sure that Perris is so hot after me.  Ain’t there been time enough for him to cool down?”

With the skill of a connoisseur, saving his choicest morsel for the end, Hervey had waited for the most favorable opportunity before striking home with his most convincing item.

“You remember you drilled him in the leg, chief?”

“I remember everything.  The whole damned affair has never been out of my head for a whole day.  I’ve gone over every detail of it a thousand 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.  Miss Marianne is running things, big and small.  Besides, she picked up Perris.  And she won’t let him go easy, I tell you!”

“What do you mean by that, Hervey?”

“I seen her face when she met him.  I was standing outside the bunkhouse.  And she sure was tolerable pleased to see him.”

A tremendous oath burst from Jordan.

“You mean she’s sweet on this—­this Perris?” But he added:  “Why should that rile me?  Maybe he’s all right.”

“He’s one of them flashy dressers,” said Lew Hervey.  “Silk shirts and swell bandannas and he wears shopmade boots and keep ’em all shined up.  Besides, it’s dead easy for him to talk to a girl.  He’s the kind that get on with ’em pretty well.”

The innuendo brought a huge roar from Oliver Jordan.

“By God, Lew, d’you think that’s what it means?  I thought she talked pretty strong about this Perris!”

“Maybe I’ve said too much,” said Hervey.

“Not a word too much,” said Jordan heartily, and reaching through the night he found the hand of Hervey and wrung it heartily.  “I know how square you are, Lew.  I know how you’ve stood by me.  I’d stake my last dollar on you!”