DALE MOVES A passionate hatred of Alva Dale was slowly gripping Sanderson.

It had been aroused on that first day of his meeting with the man, when he had seen Dale standing in front of the stable, bullying Mary Bransford and Peggy Nyland and her brother.

At that time, however, the emotion Sanderson felt had been merely dislike--as Sanderson had always disliked men who attempted to bully others.
Sanderson's hatred of Dale was beginning to dominate him; it was overwhelming all other emotions.

It dulled his sense of guilt for the part he was playing in deceiving Mary Bransford; it made him feel in a measure justified in continuing to deceive her.
For he divined that without his help Mary would lose the Double A.
Sanderson had always loved a fight, and the prospect of bringing defeat and confusion upon Dale was one that made his pulses leap with delight.
He got up on the morning following Dale's visit, tingling with eagerness.

And yet there was no sign of emotion in his face when he sat with Mary Bransford at breakfast, and he did not even look at her when he left the house, mounted his horse, and rode up the gorge that split the butte at the southern end of the range.
All morning he prowled over the table-land, paying a great deal of attention to the depth of the gorge, estimating its capacity for holding water, scanning the far reaches of the big basin carefully, and noting the location of the buildings dotting it.
Shortly after noon he rode back to the house and came upon Mary in the kitchen.
"I've put off askin' until now," he said while eating the food that Mary placed before him.