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Sanderson caught a glimpse of several riders tearing toward him from the direction of the camp, and he knew that Carter and the others were trying to reach him in the hope of being able to stem the torrent of rushing cattle. But the movement had already gone too far, and the speed of the frenzied steers was equal to the best running that Streak could do.

"Sanderson in jail!" gasped Mary. She seemed to droop; she staggered to a chair and sank into it, still looking at Dale, despair in her eyes. Dale got up and walked to a point directly in front of her, looking down at her, triumphantly. "That's what," he said. "In jail. Moreover, that's where they'll stay until this thing is settled.

Barlow, "to undertake the managing that dispute in the question of great importance upon the ancient landmarks, by Dr. Another letter of Dr. Sanderson to Dr. Barlow, at Queen's College, dated "Botheby Pagnell, Sept. 17, 1657," expressing himself, "That Dr.

Oh, no!" laughed the girl in gentle mockery. Whereat they both laughed. The sound of it must have pleased Owen, for he, too, laughed as he left the window and went toward the bunkhouse. An hour later Sanderson emerged from the house, threw saddle and bridle on Streak, and rode out into the basin to a camp where he found Kent Williams and his men.

A man behind Sanderson lunged forward, twisting Sanderson around with the impetus of the movement. Off his balance, Sanderson saw three or four other men dive toward Colton. He saw Colton reach for the weapon he had previously sheathed; saw the weapon knocked from his hand.

Old Arthur Singleton the ubiquitous was talking to us, and he nailed Armitage with his customary zeal and introduced him to us in quite the usual American fashion. Later I asked Singleton who he was and he knew nothing about him. Then Armitage turned up on the steamer, where he made himself most agreeable. Next, Senator Sanderson vouched for him as one of his Montana constituents.

Her curt answer reminded him that he was in her eyes a convicted criminal. "It's of no importance, sir." "That's what you think, Miss Sanderson." She sorted the newspapers in the bundle, and began to slip them into the private boxes where they belonged. Presently, however, her curiosity demanded satisfaction. Without looking at him, she volunteered information. "But there's no mystery about it.

Sanderson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men. Evidently the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was exposed to Sanderson. He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had been the result.

From his height they seemed to be close together, but Sanderson was not misled, and he knew that they were separated by miles of virgin soil of sagebrush and yucca, and soapweed and other desert weeds that needed not the magic of water to make them live. When Sanderson finally mounted Streak, the sun was up.

Sanderson had decided to desert Owen; the man had proved a traitor, and could not expect any consideration. Owen might talk Sanderson expected he would talk; but he did not intend to jeopardize his liberty by staying to find out. He stepped backward cautiously, for he saw certain of the men begin to move restlessly.