"It's because she's plumb generous. She thought that might turn you.
Why--she don't hardly know me!"
"Don't she?" sneered Hervey. "You don't figure her right. She's one
of the hit or miss kind. She hated me the minute she laid eyes on
me--hated me for nothing! And you knocked her off her feet the first
shot. That's all there is to it. She'd give the Valley of the Eagles
for a smile from you."
He saw the glance of Perris wander into thin distance and soften. Then
the eye of Red Jim returned to his tormentor, desperately. The blow
had told better than Hervey could have hoped.
"And me a plain tramp--a loafer--me!" said Perris to himself. He added
suddenly: "Hervey, let's talk man to man!"
"Go on," said the foreman, and set his teeth to keep his exultation
from showing.
Five minutes more, he felt, and Perris would be begging like a coward
for his life.
CHAPTER XXII
MCGUIRE SLEEPS
Never did a fox approach a lion with more discretion than Marianne
approached the careless figure of McGuire. His very attitude was a
warning that her task was to be made as difficult as possible. He had
pushed his sombrero, limp with age and wear, far back on his head, and
now, gazing, apparently, into the distant blue depths of the sky, he
regarded vacancy with mild interest and blew in the same direction a
thin brownish vapor of smoke.
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