You see, Lew Hervey is
rather a rough character. In the old days I think he was quite a
fighter. I guess he still is. And he's gathered a lot of fighting men
for cowpunchers on the ranch. When he sees me bring in an understudy for
his part, so to speak, I'm afraid he might make trouble unless he was
convinced it would be safer to keep his hands off the new man."
The gloom of Perris returned. He was still politely attentive, but his
head turned, and the eager eyes found something of interest across the
street. She knew her grip on him was failing and she struggled to regain
it. Here was her man, she knew. Here was one who would ride the fiercest
outlaw horse on the ranch; wear out the toughest cowboy; play with them
to weariness when they wanted to play, fight with them to exhaustion
when they wanted to fight, and as her right-hand man, advise her for the
best.
"As for terms, the right man can make them for himself," she concluded,
hopelessly: "Mr. Perris, I think you could be the man for the place.
What do you say to trying?"
He paused, diffidently, and she knew that in the pause he was hunting
for polite terms of refusal.
"I'll tell you how it is.
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