Sanderson grinned. "I reckon they think I'm a yearlin'," was his
mental comment.
There was another long wait. Sanderson could picture the two men
arguing the question that must deeply concern them: "Which shall be the
first to show himself?"
"I'd bet a million they're drawin' straws," grinned Sanderson.
Whether that method decided the question Sanderson never knew. He
knew, however, that a hat was slowly coming into view around a side of
the rock, and he was positive that this time there was a head in the
hat. He could not have told now he knew there was a head in the hat,
but that was his conviction.
The hat appeared slowly, gradually taking on definite shape in
Sanderson's eyes, until, with a cold grin, he noted some brown flesh
beneath it, and a section of dark beard.
Sanderson did not fire, then. The full head followed the hat, then
came a man's shoulders. Nothing happened. The man stepped from behind
the rock and stood out in full view. Still nothing happened.
The man grinned.
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