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You can't do it." "Sure I can. Thanks for your kindness, Miss Sanderson. I'll return the handkerchief some day," and with a touch swung round his pony. "You're not going. I won't have it, and you wounded!" He turned in the saddle, smiling at her with jaunty insouciance. "I'll answer for Jim. He won't betray you," she promised, subduing her pride. "Thanks.
Sanderson led the way, Streak thundering along, a living blot splitting the brown, barren wasteland, followed closely by other blots, rushing over the hazardous trail, the echoes of their passing creating a rumble as of drumfire reverberating in a cañon. They came to a point where the trail led upward sharply, veering around the shoulder of a hill and dropping precipitously into a valley.
Occasionally I asked the driver a question, and sometimes the girls did likewise; but, to my disappointment, the ride seemed not to be the same as that of yesterday. Every half mile or so we passed a ranch house, and as we traveled on these ranches grew further apart, until, twelve or fifteen miles out of Sanderson, they were so widely separated that each appeared alone on the wild range.
The sea was constantly before his eyes, and the desire to seek his fortune on it sprang up within him, and grew stronger and stronger, till in about a year after he went to Straiths he obtained a release from his engagement with Mr Sanderson, and apprenticed himself to Messrs. Walker and Company, shipowners of Whitby.
Sanderson is almost well again and I don't think we'll be able to keep her with us very much longer." "What do you mean?" they cried together, their voices showing how very real their concern was. "Well," Betty explained slowly, "it seems she overheard some of us girls talking about the rush of work in store for us and got it into her head that we might need her room."
"I have almost a mind to tell her the report, and ask her what it means. I have somehow shrunk from doing so because it seems an absolute insult, and whenever I see the child I can not believe there is any truth in the story. I wish I knew more particulars." "Who was your informant? Oh, I remember! Bertie Sanderson and she is out of the way now, and can't be questioned."
Sanderson saw her watching him covert glances that held not a little wonder and disappointment. And then, when the meal was nearly finished, she looked at him with a taunting half-smile. "Didn't you sleep good, Will?" Sanderson looked fairly at her. That "Will" was already an irritation to him, for it continually reminded him of the despicable part he was playing.
Halfway of the distance between his rock and the fissure he charged before Sanderson shot him. The man fell soundlessly, turning over and over in his descent to the bottom of the defile. And then rose Williams' voice Sanderson grinned with bitter humor: "We've got them, boys; we've got them. Give them hell, the damned buzzards!"
'My dear Mr. Sanderson, that device is as old as Noah and his ark. I should chance that. Let me lay this fellow by the heels, and I will guarantee that no publicity follows. Sanderson sadly shook his head. 'Everything might happen as you say, sir, but all that would put us no further forward. The only point is the liberation of my young master.
Sanderson hesitated between a choice of the two evils, and was lost. For she gave him no time for serious and continued thought. Taking him by an arm she led him into a room off the sitting-room, shoving him through the door laughingly. "That is to be your room," she said. "I fixed it up for you more than a month ago. You go in there and get some sleep. Sleep until dusk.
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