Square Deal Sanderson

by Charles Alden Seltzer

A quick change came over Nyland. The blood left his face, and his eyes took on an expression of cold cunning.

Dismounting, he hitched his horse to one of the rails of the corral fence. With his back turned to the house, his head cocked to one side, as though he were intent on the knot he was tying in the reins, he furtively watched the house.

He took a long time to tie the reins to the rail, but the time was well spent, for, before he finished, he saw a man's face at one of the kitchen windows.

It was not Dale. He was convinced of that, even though he got only a flashing glance at the face.

Danger threatened Peggy, or she had succumbed to it. There was no other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen. For if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would have met him at the door, as she had always done.

And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows.

Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with. But haste and recklessness would avail Nyland little. The great mingled rage and anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the kitchen door, his manner—outwardly—was that of a man who has seen nothing to arouse his suspicions.

Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and sinew of his body was tensed for instant action. And so, when he had approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man's figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen.

So rapid were his movements, and so well timed was his fall, that he was halfway to the ground when the flash came from the doorway. And the crash of his own gun followed the other so closely that the two seemed almost instantaneous.

Nyland did not conclude his acrobatic performance with the dive. Landing on the ground he rolled over and over, scrambling toward the wall of the cabin—reaching it on all fours and crouching there, gun in hand—waiting.