So turned, Terry could not see her clearly. He caught a glimmer¹ of red bronze hair, dark in shadow and brilliant in high lights, and a sheen of greenish eyes. Otherwise, he only noted² the casual manner in which she acknowledged the introduction, unsmiling, indifferent, as Pollard said: "Here's my daughter Kate. This is Terry—a new hand."  
It seemed to Terry that as he said this the rancher made a gesture as of warning, though this, no doubt, could be attributed to his wish to silently explain away the idiosyncrasy of Terry in using his first name only. He was presented in turn to the four men, and thought them the oddest collection he had ever laid eyes on.
 
Slim Dugan was tall, but not so tall as he looked, owing to his very small head and narrow shoulders. His hair was straw color, excessively silky, and thin as the hair of a year-old child. There were other points of interest in Slim Dugan; his feet, for instance, were small as the feet of a girl, accentuated³ by the long, narrow riding boots, and his hands seemed to be pulled out to a great and unnecessary length. They made up for it by their narrowness.
 
His exact opposite was Marty Cardiff, chunky, fat, it seemed, until one noted the roll and bulge⁴ of the muscles at the shoulders. His head was settled into his fat shoulders somewhat in the manner of Denver's, Terry thought.
 
Oregon Charlie looked the part of an Indian, with his broad nose and high cheekbones, flat face, slanted⁵ dark eyes; but his skin was a dead and peculiar⁶ white. He was a down-headed man, and one could rarely imagine him opening his lips to speak; he merely grunted⁷ as he shook hands with the stranger.
 
To finish the picture, there was a man as huge as Joe Pollard himself, and as powerful, to judge by appearances. His face was burned to a jovial⁸ red; his hair was red also, and there was red hair on the backs of his freckled⁹ hands.
 
All these men met Terry with cordial nods, but there was a carelessness about their demeanor¹⁰ which seemed strange to Terry. In his experience, the men of the mountains were a timid or a blustering¹¹ lot before newcomers, uneasy, and anxious to establish their place. But these men acted as if meeting unknown men were a part of their common, daily experience. They were as much at their ease as social lions.
 
Pollard was explaining the presence of Terry.
 
"He's come up to clean out the varmints," he said to the others. "They been getting pretty thick on the range, you know."
 
"You came in just wrong," complained Kate, while the men turned four pairs of grave eyes upon Terry and seemed to be judging him. "I got Oregon singing at last, and he was doing fine. Got a real voice, Charlie has. Regular branded baritone, I'll tell a man."
 
"Strike up agin for us, Charlie," said Pollard good-naturedly. "You don't never make much more noise'n a grizzly¹²."
 
But Charlie looked down at his hands and a faint spot of red appeared in his cheek. Obviously he was much embarrassed. And when he looked up, it was to fix a glance of cold suspicion upon Terry, as though warning him not to take this talk of social acquirements as an index to his real character.
 
"Get us some coffee, Kate," said Pollard. "Turned off cold coming up the hill."
 
She did not rise. She had turned around to her music again, and now she acknowledged the order by lifting her head and sending a shrill¹³ whistle through the room. Her father started violently.
 
"Damn it, Kate, don't do that!"
 
"The only thing that'll bring Johnny on the run," she responded carelessly.
 
And, indeed, the door on the left of the room flew open a moment later, and a wide-eyed Chinaman appeared with a long pigtail jerking about his head as he halted and looked about in alarm.
 
"Coffee for the boss and the new hand," said Kate, without turning her head, as soon as she heard the door open. "Pronto, Johnny."
 
Johnny snarled¹⁴ an indistinct something and withdrew muttering.
 
"You'll have Johnny quitting the job," complained Pollard, frowning. "You can't scare the poor devil out of his skin like that every time you want coffee. Besides, why didn't you get up and get it for us yourself?"
 
Still she did not turn; but, covering a yawn, replied: "Rather sit here and play."
 
Her father swelled¹⁵ a moment in rage, but he subsided¹⁶ again without audible protest. Only he sent a scowl¹⁷ at Terry as though daring him to take notice of this insolence¹⁸. As for the other men, they had scattered¹⁹ to various parts of the room and remained there, idly, while the boss and the new hand drank the scalding coffee of Johnny. All this time Pollard remained deep in thought. His meditations²⁰ exploded as he banged the empty cup back on the table.
 
"Kate, this stuff has got to stop. Understand?"
 
The soft jingling²¹ of the piano continued without pause.
 
"Stop that damned noise!"
 
The music paused. Terry felt the long striking muscles leap into hard ridges²² along his arms, but glancing at the other four, he found that they were taking the violence of Pollard quite as a matter of course. One was whittling²³, another rolled a cigarette, and all of them, if they took any visible notice of the argument, did so with the calmest of side glances.
 
"Turn around!" roared Pollard.
 
His daughter turned slowly and faced him. Not white-faced with fear, but to the unutterable astonishment²⁴ of Terry she was quietly looking her father up and down. Pollard sprang to his feet and struck the table so that it quivered through all its massive length.
 
"Are you trying to shame me before a stranger?" thundered the big man.
"Is that the scene?"
She flicked²⁵ Terry Hollis with a glance. "I think he'll understand and make allowances."
 
It brought the heavy fist smashing on the table again. And an ugly feeling rose in Hollis that the big fellow might put hands on his daughter.
 
"And what d'you mean by that? What in hell d'you mean by that?"
 
In place of wincing²⁶, she in turn came to her feet gracefully²⁷. There had been such an easy dignity about her sitting at the piano that she had seemed tall to Terry. Now that she stood up, he was surprised to see that she was not a shade more than average height, beautifully and strongly made.
 
"You've gone about far enough with your little joke," said the girl, and her voice was low, but with an edge of vibr............