and the tossing head
of the approaching pony, he recognized the horse of Red Perris!

CHAPTER XXI

THE BATTLE

He had time to burst from the hut and race across the clearing through
the darkness which would surely shelter him from the snap-shot of
even such an expert as Red Jim, but in mind and body Hervey was too
paralyzed by the appearance of his enemy to stir until he saw Perris
slip from his horse, slumping to the earth after the fashion of a
weary man, and drag off the saddle. He paid no attention to tethering
his pony, but started towards the shack, down-headed, heavy of foot.

Hervey had gained the door of the shack in the interim, and there he
crouched at watch, terrified at the thought of staying till the other
entered, still more terrified at the idea of bolting across the open
clearing. He could see Perris clearly, in outline, for just behind him
there was a rift in the circle of trees which fenced the clearing and
Red Jim was thrown into somewhat bold relief against the blue-black
of the night sky far beyond. He could even make out that a bandage
circled the head of Perris and with that sight a new thought leaped
into the brain of the foreman. 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. How fast, how lightning fast his mind
plunged through thought after thought, image after flocking image,
while Red Jim made the last dragging steps towards the door of the
shack! If he drew, Perris, despite his bent head might catch the
glimmer of steel and draw and fire at the glance of the gun. There
were tales of gun experts doing more remarkable feats. Wild Bill,
in his prime, from the corner of his eye saw a man draw a white
hankerchief, thought it a gun, whirled on his heel, and killed a
harmless stranger.

He who stops to think can rarely act. It was true of Hervey. Then
Perris, at the very door of the hut, dropped the flopping saddle to
the ground and the foreman saw that no holster swung at the hip of his
man. Joy leaped in him. There was no thought for the cruel cowardice
of his act but only overmastering gratitude that the enemy should be
thus delivered hel