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Updated: June 12, 2025
Steve glanced down at the hand which still felt the pressure of her buckskin clad fingers. "I have to work day and night some weeks when things break badly," he told her simply. "If I can" and he turned to Barbara "if I can, I want to come." Miriam nodded her head with brisk finality. "If you can," she agreed. "Barbara, no doubt, has been telling you about Garret Devereau, hasn't she?
I've not made so many friends, you know, Garry." Garrett Devereau would have stopped there, dripping as he was, in the middle of the timber, had not Steve held to his stride. And he must have caught a momentary glimpse of that self which he was exhibiting to his companion, for his next words were a little mollified. "Perspective is an excellent thing," he murmured.
"Devereau'll be taking you East, likely," he had surmised. So waiting not an instant past the hour when he was scheduled to arrive, Blue Jeans had gone, stricken with homesickness at the thought of leaving her, to see Girl o' Mine. It took him twenty miles down the line, but he'd made the appointment with her before he knew Devereau was coming, anyhow, and he'd keep it.
It is effect and not cause with which we are concerned. And one instance alone will serve to show, how finally was wrecked that popularity which had been so swiftly created. One interview between Perry and Devereau explains it well.
She put her hand upon her arm. No, that wasn't the way it had felt; it had been strong, infallible. And though he had turned quickly away, after putting her aboard; though she had no way of guessing that he had gone back to find Devereau, she was filled just the same with what remained, for a long time at least, a happy certainty. She'd see him again sometime. She had to!
Will send Devereau when the time is right." So Blue Jeans had suddenly found his Dream in the process of coming true. For he had done, not happy at heart, just what the huge man had said he would do; he had decided to accumulate other and just as easy two hundreds. "I'll herd by myself," was the way he argued himself to this decision. "I'm no lily, but I'll not soil myself worse with this bunch."
"A decent girl!" was what he muttered. "A decent girl I'd swear it!" And he looked again, eagerly, beneath the truck. An hour later when Blue Jeans heard a man asking for Perry Blair in the Cactus House, he stepped up. He didn't care for his looks, which was no novelty so far in this venture. "I'm Perry Blair," he said. "I'm Devereau."
And then, gruffly: "It was the Allison girl, of course." In spite of the hand upon his elbow Garrett Devereau stopped short in his tracks. "Barbara!" he stammered. "Barbara Allison? Joe, was that the girl he meant to-night, when he said he was going to 'marry one of those women himself?" Joe peered at him, trying to make out the expression upon his face. "Why not?" he wanted to know. "Why not?
Therefore Devereau but you've guessed it. Devereau is Fox-face of the private car. Devereau is the toad. It was dark at the end of the platform. He could not see that her eyes were dilated. He laid his hand upon her. She couldn't run; her legs felt frozen and useless. "No hurry, dearie," said Devereau. "Let's talk this over. Maybe you'll be glad you missed your train."
And when, hours later it came word for word to Devereau, the latter turned pale. For many days he had been hearing rumors disturbing to his ideas of managerial authority, but had laid them to jealousy. He believed them now. He sought out Blair. "Listen!" He plunged strongly in. He thought he knew when to tread softly, when to brow-beat. "Listen, kid! You've pulled a boner.
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