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.
By that time I'll have supper ready. And then, after supper, there are
so many things that I want to say to you. So get a good sleep!"

She closed the door and went out, and Sanderson sank into a chair.
Later, he locked the door, pulled the chair over near a window--from
which he got a good view of the frowning butte at the edge of the
level--and stared out, filled with a sensation of complete disgust.

"Hell," he said, after a time, "I'm sure a triple-plated boxhead, an'
no mistake!"




CHAPTER VI

SANDERSON LIES

Sanderson did not sleep. He sat at the window all afternoon, dismally
trying to devise way of escape from the dilemma. He did not succeed.
He had gone too far now to make a confession sound reasonably
convincing; and he could not desert the girl to Dale. That was not to