"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."
So the first impression of Red Jim was created on the ranch, an
impression which might be dispelled by the first real test of the man,
or which in the absence of such a test might cling to him forever:
Perris was a conceited gun-fighter, heart-breaker, and bully. The men
who trooped into the bunkhouse behind him already hated him with a
religious intensity; in ten minutes, they might have accepted him as a
bunkie! For your true Western cowpuncher, when all is said and done,
unites with Spartan stoicism a Spartan keenness of suspicion.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177