I wanted to see
what sort were. Well, I see, and I don't like what I see."
"Hervey," began Perris, trembling with his passion "Hervey--"
"Wait a minute," said the foreman, "I know your kind. You sign your
name with bullets. You pay your way with lead. You bully a crowd by
fingering a gun-butt. Well, son, that sort of thing don't go in the
Valley of the Eagles. Lay a hand on that gun and I'll have the boys
tie you in knots and roll you in a barrel of tar we got handy. Perris,
get that hoss for me, or get out!"
Red Perris sat down on the edge of his bunk. He made no move
towards his revolver. Indeed, it lay almost arm's length away.
Almost--everyone noted that. He crossed his legs and his glance
wandered slowly up and down the line of grim faces.
"Partner," he said softly to Hervey, "I'm not going to get the hoss
and I'm not going to get out. The next move is up to you. Is it tar?"
For a moment Hervey was dazed. No one could have foreseen such
daredeviltry as this. At the same time, he was badly cornered. If his
men rushed Red Perris, Red Perris would get his gun. And if Red Perris
got his gun the first shot would be for Hervey.
"Hold on, boys," he called suddenly, above the angry curses of his
men, "I'm not going to risk one of you in getting this fool.
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