"Hide that money in a safe place—-where the devil himself couldn't find it. Don't give it up, no matter what happens."
He walked to a window and looked out. Behind him he could hear Mary running here and there; and at last when the riders were within half a mile of the house, she came and stood behind Sanderson, panting, resting her hands on his shoulders to peer over them at the coming riders.
Sanderson turned and smiled at her. "We'll go out on the porch, now, an' wait for them."
"Deal," she whispered excitedly; "why don't you go away? Get on Streak—he'll outrun any horse in the county! Go! Get Williams and the other boys. Deal!" She shook him frenziedly. "It isn't the money they are after—it's you! They'll kill you, Deal! And there are so many of them! Run—run!"
He grinned, patting her shoulder as he led her out upon the porch and forced her into a chair.
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.
Dale, his face flushed, his eyes alight with triumph, dismounted and stepped forward, halting at the edge of the porch and sweeping his hat from his head with exaggerated courtesy.