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Updated: June 25, 2025


There was needed a man who stood among his fellows as Alcatraz had stood on the hillcrest, defiant, lordly, and free. And as the thought drove home in her, Marianne uttered a little cry of triumph. All in a breath she had it. Red Perris was the man! But would he come? Yes, for the sake of such a battle as this he would journey to the end of the world and give his services for nothing.

That Marianne might have made a good deal of a fool out of Perris, as Hervey suggested, pleased them immensely. "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.

The bandage, the stumbling walk, the downward head, were all signs of a badly injured and exhausted man. Suppose he were to attack Perris, single-handed and destroy him? The entire problem would be solved! The respect of his men, the deathless gratitude of Jordan were in the grip of his hand. His fingers locked around the butt of his gun and yet he hesitated to draw. One could never be sure.

There was no thought for the cruel cowardice of his act but only overmastering gratitude that the enemy should be thus delivered helpless into his hand. Through the split part of a second that thrill passed tingling through and through him, then he shouted: "Perris!" and at the same instant whipped out the gun and fired pointblank.

Not that I'm proud of it, but so you can see where I stand. If I don't like a bunkie you can figure why I don't want a boss." She nodded stiffly, and at the unamiable gesture she saw him shrug his shoulders very slightly, his eyes wandered again as though he were seeking for a means to end the interview. Marianne rose. "I see your viewpoint, Mr. Perris," she said coldly.

But no, yonder his head broke above the surface a great log flung past him, missing the goal by inches a whirl in the current rolled him under, but up he came again, swimming gallantly. The selfish rage which had consumed Red Perris broke out in words. Down the bank he trotted the buckskin, shaking his fist at Alcatraz and pouring the stream of his curses at that devoted head.

Only new hope sustained him as he headed straight for the trees. Even the dazed brain of Perris understood. With all his force he wrenched at the bit it was hopelessly lodged in the teeth of the stallion and then he groaned in despair and a moment later swayed forward to avoid a bough brushing close overhead. There were other branches ahead.

Had the pony under Perris possessed half of its ordinary speed of foot it would easily have headed the fugitive or at the least brought its rider in rope-throw, now, outworn by the long trail it had followed, the little animal stumbled and almost fell when Perris with iron hand swung it around. That blunder lost fatal yards, but still it did its honest best. It was a veteran of many a round-up.

She knew also by the sudden compression of his lips and the white line about them that her foreman felt himself to be no match for this tigerish fighter. She thrust between them. Even in her excitement she noticed that Hervey's hand came readily from the shoulder of Perris.

They had looked upon the approaching conflict with Perris as a bitter pill that must be swallowed for the sake of the Valley of the Eagles outfit. They looked upon it, from this moment, as a religious duty from which no one with the name of a man dared to shrink. Little Joe and Shorty at once started for the corral.

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