Sandringham

“ Shooting at Sandringham gradually took its place as the prince's main sport. To his shooting parties were invited his Norfolk neighbours as well as his intimate circle of associates. He reared pheasants and partridges assiduously, profiting by useful advice from his neighbour, Thomas William Coke, earl of Leicester, of Holkham. Partridge-driving grew to be his favourite sporting recreation. He was a variable and no first-rate shot, but was successful with high pheasants. For his autumnal vacation at Scotland during September and October Queen Autumn holidays in Scotland. ”

“ It was a time of trial for a very young man placed in a very high position, and with temptations which might easily have led him into temporary and even permanent forgetfulness of the responsibilities of the future. Several causes, apart from his own natural strength of character, combined to avert such a result. The sympathetic and gracious character of his wife and the perfection of management and detail which she introduced into the home life of Sandringham and the more public and social life of Marlborough House, were factors of importance. ”

“ You don't look much like your father."
"Nor I don't act like him, either," smiled Sanderson. "For instance," he went on at the banker's quick look, "dad was slow; he wasn't alive to his opportunities. How long has it been since the railroad came to Okar?"
"Five years."
"Then dad was five years slower than he ought to have been. He ought to have seen what water would do to the basin. He didn't—left that for me."
"Meaning what?" asked Maison, as Sanderson paused.
"Meanin' that I want to turn the Double A water into the basin. That's what I came here to see you for. ”

“ Whatever was on Sanderson's mind he kept to himself. But late that night, when the ranchhouse was dark, and a look through one of the windows of the bunkhouse showed Sanderson there were only two men awake—and they playing cards sleepily—he threw saddle and bridle on Streak and rode away into the inky darkness of the basin.
Shortly after dusk on the same night Silverthorn, Dale, and Maison were sitting at a table in Maison's private office in the bank building. They, too, were playing cards.
But their thoughts were not on the cards. Elation filled their hearts. ”

“ Every minute they were on the point of vaulting into the thicket or trying conclusions with a sturdy oak. They rocked and swayed at times as if their carrier was a boat in a choppy sea. Hera was occupied in holding fast, but Sandro seemed not to know that the experience was at all unusual. Forgetting himself and all the world except the road and the dangers that the lamps revealed, he became a part of the dodging, spinning thing, meeting emergencies with a passive certainty that was more automatic than human. ”

“ With a half-choked cry of "Sandy!" upon her lips Peaches moved toward him, only to stop short, her face going completely blank. The man was a servant, a valet presumably, carrying a folded suit of clothing carefully over one arm and wearing soft felt shoes, which had been the secret of his noiseless approach. His hair was thickly gray and his face was lined and scarred. He looked perhaps ten years older than Sandro—and yet the likeness was there—unmistakable, though in the full light not by any means so perfect. ”

“ Had she been omnipotent, she would at that moment have decreed that Sandro should never see his Empress again; she was quite clear that he and his Empress would not be good for one another. "I begin to hear them talking about him," she went on with a chuckle. "He's coming into fashion, he's to be the new man for a while. You London people love a new man just as you do a new craze. You're fine talkers too. I like your buzz. It's a great hum, hum, buzz, buzz. It turns some men's heads, but it only sharpens others' wits; it won't turn Sandro's head." ”

“ Maison knew what impended. But he succeeded in speaking, though the words caught, stranglingly, in his throat:
"W-what do you—want?"
"Ninety thousand dollars. The market price for three thousand head of cattle."
"There isn't that much in the vaults!" protested Maison in a gasping whisper. "We never keep that amount of money on hand."
He would have said more, but he saw Sanderson's grin become bitter; saw the arm holding the six-shooter stiffen suggestively.
Maison raised his hands in horror.
"Wait!" he said, pleadingly. "I'll see. Good God, man, keep the muzzle of that gun away!" ”

“ I went personally to Okar and was told by Silverthorn that the railroad would accept no material consigned to the Double A ranch."
"Pretty raw," was Sanderson's only comment.
"Raw? It's rotten!" declared Williams. "There's plenty of the kind of material we want in Lazette. To get it here would mean a fifty-mile haul. I can get teams and wagons in Lazette," he added, an eager note in his voice.
"Go to it," said Sanderson.
Williams smiled admiringly. "You're game, Mr. Man," he said; "it's a pleasure to work for you!" ”

“ Then Sandersen's voice grew screechy with sudden passion. "Say, do you want three men to die for one? Besides, what good could we do?"
"You don't mean it," declared Sinclair. "Sandersen, you don't mean it! Not alone out here! You boys can't leave me out here stranded. Might as well shoot me!"
All were silent. Sandersen looked to Lowrie, and the latter stared at the sand. It was Quade who acted.
Stepping to the side of Sinclair he lifted him easily in his powerful arms and lowered him to the sands. "Now, keep your nerve," he advised. "We're coming back." ”

“ Through the archway connecting the office with the saloon came a broad beam of light from a number of kerosene lamps. From beyond the archway issued the buzz of voices and the clink of glasses; peering through the opening Sanderson could see that the barroom was crowded.
Sanderson mounted the stairs leading from the office. When he had left Owen, the latter had told Sanderson that it was his intention to spend the time until the return of his friend in reading. ”

“ In taking a mental inventory of his household goods, Sanderson's eyes fell on the photograph of a woman on the mantel-piece. He frowned. What right had she there, when his mind was full of another? He walked over to the picture and threw it into the fire. It was not the first picture to know a similar fate after occupying that place of honor.
The blackened edges of the picture were whirling up the chimney, when Sanderson's attention was arrested by a knock.
"Come in," he called, and a young man of about his own age entered. ”

“ Is there anything wrong in the letter? I am very old; and I did not know. Valgame Dios! it is a very foolish world; and there is nothing in the house to drink—nothing to drink.”
Just then all that Sandridge could think of to do was to go outside and throw himself face downward in the dust by the side of his humming-bird, of whom not a feather fluttered. He was not a caballero by instinct, and he could not understand the niceties of revenge.
A mile away the rider who had ridden past the wagon-shed struck up a harsh, untuneful song, the words of which began ”

“ Sanderson had reached the center of the trail, through Devil's Hole, before he again looked back.
What he saw caused him to pull Streak up with a jerk. The head of the herd had burst through the entrance to the Hole, and, opening fanlike, had gone headlong into the quicksand.
Fascinated with the magnitude of the catastrophe, Sanderson paid no attention to the few steers that went past him, snorting wildly; he sat rigid on his horse and watched the destruction of the herd. ”

“ Sanderson took the seven thousand dollars that Mary gave him, rode to Lazette—a town fifty miles eastward from the basin—-and deposited the money in a bank there. Then he rode eastward still farther and in another town discovered a young engineer with a grievance against his employers. ”

“ Sandersen with a side-glance followed every changing shade of expression in that hard face. How could Sinclair attack a man who had just defended him from a terrible charge? It could not be. For the moment, at least, Sandersen felt he was safe. In the future, many things might happen. ”

“ You and your bunch of curs! I'll take care of you! Move—one of you! Move a finger! You won't! Then go! Go! I'll count three! The man that isn't going when I finish counting gets his quick! One—two——"
"Wait!! Already on the move, the men halted at the sound of his voice. The violence of the passion that gripped him gave him a new thought.
"You don't go!" he jeered at them. "You stay here. Sanderson, you take their guns! Grab them yourself!"
Sanderson drew his own weapon and moved rapidly among the men. He got Dale's gun first and threw it in the sand at the edge of the porch. ”

“ Well, yes, for a minute. But out at the necktie party, Whitey, I kept watching him. Thinks a lot more'n he says, and gents like that is always dangerous."
"Always," replied Whitey.
"But it's the last time Sinclair'll show his face in Sour
Creek—alive," said Sandersen.
"If he does show his face alive, it'll be a dead face pronto. You can lay to that."
Sandersen seemed to turn this fact over and over in his mind, with immense satisfaction.
"And yet," pursued the storekeeper, "think of a full-grown man breaking the law to save such a skinny little shrimp of a gent as Jig? ”

“ But the revelation that he, a man of over sixty, had a mistress permanently residing in his house led to an outburst of indignation on the part of the public who hated him. On the fall of the North administration in March 1782 Sandwich retired in great measure from public life, and though he accepted the office of ranger of St. James's and Hyde Parks under the coalition, it was but for a few months. During the following years he resided for the most part at Hinchinbroke, and died in London on 30 April 1792.
No public man of the last century was the mark of such bitter, such violent invective. ”

“ Sanderson ordered him to close the doors, and with the banker preceding him they returned to the upper room, where Sanderson distributed the money over his person securely, the banker watching him.
When Sanderson had finished, he again spoke. There was elation in his eyes, but they still were aflame with the threat of death and violence.
"Who's the biggest an' most honest man in town?" he said, "the one man that the folks here always think of when they're in trouble an' want a square deal? Every town always has such a man. Who is he?"
"Judge Graney," said Maison. ”

“ But though Sandy spoke thus plainly, he did not look toward the prison,—and the prison was the last place of which Elizabeth was thinking. It was so long a time since the cell with the window had an occupant, that she was almost unconscious of that gloomy neighborhood. So, when the gardener explained that it was one up above who would enjoy her work, her eyes instantly sought the celestial heights. She was thinking of sun, or star, or angel, may-be, and smiling at Sandy's speech, for sympathy.
He saw her new mistake, and made haste to correct this also. ”

“ Sandersville is a busy town hung in gloomy bunting which no one has had time to take down since the last county fair. It has a large, dusty, sandy square with a clock tower in the middle. There are great numbers of cars and lorries parked around. Cotton bales, old and new, fresh and decayed, lie on every street. Huge gins are working, and Negroes are busy shoveling oily-looking cottonseed into barns; cotton fluff is all over the roadways in little clots; every man is in his shirt ”

“ Sanderson. “That’s true, and I’m afraid it’s cheeky in me to ask you to take me, but I feel sort of drawn to you both, particularly to my young countryman, Bernard.”
“Say no more, Mr. Sanderson. We’ll take you with us as far as Capua, at any rate. There, as it is a large and well known place, you will have no difficulty in making other arrangements.”
“Thank you, squire. You’re a gentleman. You’ll find Amos Sanderson a true friend, that’ll stand by you through thick and thin. If we are attacked by bandits, he won’t run away and leave you in the lurch.” ”

“ That's why he knew you are not Will Bransford. Understand? Maison will swear you signed the withdrawal slip and got the money. We'll prove that you are not Bransford, and you'll go to the Las Vegas pen for twenty years! Now, let's talk business!"
Sanderson turned. There was a mirthless grin on his face. He spoke loudly, calling the jailer.
When the latter appeared in the corridor beside Silverthorn, Sanderson addressed him without looking at the other:
"You ain't on your job a heap, are you? There's a locoed coyote barkin' at me through the door, there. ”

“ They rode several miles in that fashion—Owen keeping his horse slightly behind Sanderson's, his gaze on the other's face, his own white with remorse and anxiety.
At last he heard Sanderson laugh, and the sound of it made him grit his teeth in impotent agony.
"Sanderson," he said, gulping, "I'm sorry."
"Sure," returned the other. "If I hadn't wised up to that quite a spell ago, you'd be back on the trail, waitin' for some coyote to come along an' get his supper."
They rode in silence for a long time. They came to the gentle slope of the basin and began to climb it. ”

“ When the men had come near enough for him to distinguish their faces, and he saw that Dale was leading them, he walked to a slender porch column and leaned against it, turning to smile at Mary.
"Maison decided he'd have to talk, looks like," he said. "Some men just can't help it."
Rigid in her chair, the girl watched the riders swoop toward the ranchhouse; Sanderson, lounging against the porch column, smiled saturninely.
The riders headed directly toward the porch. Sanderson counted them as they came to a halt within thirty feet of the edge of the porch. There were twenty of them. ”