Red Perris was naturally somewhat offended by the blankness of her eye as she passed him over.  She had been so extremely intimate and cordial the night before that this neglect was almost an insult.  Perhaps she had only been playing a game—­trying to amuse herself during a dull hour instead of truly wishing to please him.  He grew childishly sulky at the thought.  After all, there was a good deal of the spoiled child about Red Jim.  He had had his way in the world so much that opposition or neglect threw him into a temper.

And he stamped out of the dining-room ahead of the rest of the men, his head down, his brows black.  Lew Hervey, following with the other men, had noted everything.  It behooved him to be on the watch during the time of trial and triumph and at breakfast he had observed Red Perris looking at the girl a dozen times with an anticipatory smile which changed straightway to glumness when her glance passed him carelessly by.  And now Hervey communicated his opinions to the others on the way to the bunkhouse to get their things for the day’s riding.

“Our new friend, the gun-fighter,” he said, pointedly emphasizing the last phrase, “ain’t none too happy this morning.  Marianne give him a smile last night and he was waiting for another this morning.  He sure looks cut up, eh?”

The bowed head and rounded shoulders of Red Perris brought a chuckle from the cowpunchers.  They were not at all kindly disposed towards him.  Too much reputation is a bad thing for a man to have on his hands in the West.  He is apt to be expected to live up to it every moment of his waking hours.  Not a man in the Valley of the Eagles outfit but was waiting to see the newcomer make the first move towards bullying one of them.  And such a move they were prepared to resent en masse.  That Marianne might have made a good deal of a fool out of Perris, as Hervey suggested, pleased them immensely.

“Maybe the ranch suits him pretty well,” suggested Slim, ironically.  “Maybe he figures it might be worth his while to pick it up by marrying the old man’s girl.  Eh, Lew?”

Lew Hervey shrugged his shoulders.  He did not wish to directly accuse the gun-fighter of anything, for talk is easily traced to its source and the account of Shorty had filled the foreman with immense respect for the fighting qualities of Red Perris.  However, he was equally determined to rouse a hostile sentiment towards him among the cowhands.

“Well,” said Lew, “you can’t blame a gent for playing for high stakes if he’s going to gamble at all.  I guess Red Perris is all right.  A kid like him can’t help being a little proud of himself.”

“Damn fat-head,” growled Slim, less merciful, “sat right next to me and didn’t say two words all through breakfast.  Ain’t going to waste no words on common cowpunchers, maybe.”