“San-ndy!”
The three on the verandah jumped. That crisp summons, that peculiar inflection meant but one thing. Chess! Sandy cast a swift agonized glance about him, seeking an immediate mode of escape. He was slipping cat-footed and doubled over along the back of the swinging couch on the verandah, when again came the imperative summons, this time with even more deadly significance.
“Sandy! In here, sir!”
“Yessir, I’m comin’, sir.”
Now it happened that the foreman of O Bar O had come especially over to the ranch house, accompanied by the son and daughter of P. D. to announce to his employer the discharge of Cheerio. It was an ironclad rule of O Bar O that no “hand” upon the place should be dismissed without his case first being examined before the final court of judgment in the person of P. D. This was merely a formality, for P. D. was accustomed to O. K. the acts of his foreman. Nevertheless, it was one of the customs that could not be ignored. What is more, a man reported for his final pay to the supreme boss of the ranch.
It was also the law at O Bar O that such discharges and reports should be made after the working hours in the field. In the present instance, Bully Bill had harkened to the advice of his assistant and discharged Cheerio at the noon hour. O Bar O, he contended, could not afford to risk its prestige by having in its employ for even a few more hours a man who had acted at the corrals as had the Englishman. Therefore, having put his men back to work at the corrals, Bully Bill had come to the house to report to his employer.
That Sandy summons was unmistakable. The noble and ancient game was about to be played. It was well-known lese majeste to interrupt when the game was in progress. Bully Bill and the young McPhersons looked at each other in consternation and dismay.
Sandy, in his ragged and soiled overalls, one of the “galluses” missing and the other hitched in place with a safety pin, groaned aloud, then shuffled unwillingly into the house. Rebellion bristled and stuck out of every inch of the reluctant and disgusted boy. At that moment Sandy loathed chess above everything else on earth. It was a damfool game that no other boy in the country was forced to play. Sandy could not see why he should be singled out as a special victim. Sullenly he seated himself before the hated board. Blindly he lifted and moved a black pawn forward two paces. His father’s eyes snapped through his glasses.
“Since when did it become the custom for the Black to move before the White?” he demanded fiercely.
Sandy coughed and replaced the pawn. His father took the first move with his white pawn.