YUMA RIDES BEHIND A MASKED MAN

The Lone Ranger almost fired instinctively at Yuma. His finger tightened on the trigger, but he caught himself in time. Yuma's last, quick shot went wide. The cowboy stood entirely clear of the rocks that had protected him, holding his gun point-blank on the masked man. For a moment the two stood there tense, each one covering the other, neither moving, neither firing.

Then Yuma let out a wild cry as he threw his six-gun on the ground. "You win, hang it all, I can't shoot yuh. Come on an' take me prisoner."

The Lone Ranger closed the space. He holstered his own gun, then bent and picked up Yuma's weapon.

"Put this where it belongs," he said, extending the weapon butt-end first, "in your holster. You'll probably be needing it again."

There were tears of futility in Yuma's eyes. "I dunno," he said, accepting the gun, "what in hell's the matter with me. Why didn't I shoot yuh? Why'd I let yuh take me?"

"Because you're not a killer," replied the masked man simply.

"The hell I ain't. I'm the man that's—"

"Just a minute, Yuma. You tried to tell me that you were the leader of the Basin gang. In spite of that, I went in to Red Oak last night. I found Bryant Cavendish there. I showed him a document that his friends were trying to make Penelope sign and he admitted that it was just the way he had dictated it. I want you to look it over."

He took the paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to Yuma. Then he stood patiently silent to give the big blond man a chance to read it. Yuma seemed to find some difficulty in wading through the legal terms and phrases. He guided his eyes from one word to the next with his finger, and when he finished he said, "Does this mean that Penny ain't tuh have no part o' Bryant's property when he kicks in?"

The Lone Ranger said, "Some of the relatives of the old man have already signed it. Penny among them."

Yuma looked at the signatures. "Then she's done outen her share?"

"According to that, Penelope will have no claim on the land unless Bryant wills it to her. When she signed that, she lost all her faith in Bryant Cavendish. Furthermore, I doubt if Bryant will be able to give her much protection now."

"Why not?"

"He was shot last night."

"Shot?"

The Lone Ranger nodded, then went on to tell Yuma the events in Red Oak, relating what he had heard of Mort's imprisonment and ultimate escape, the shot that was fired at Bryant, and the knifing of the man who fired that shot. "I was not seen," he said, "but they must have had a look at my horse and they certainly heard me call the horse Silver. I've no doubt that I'll be accused of both the shooting of Bryant Cavendish and the knifing of the man who really shot him."

Yuma nodded comprehension and agreement. "The same sort o' killin' that old Gimlet got," he said thoughtfully. "I reckon the same skunk done both knifin's."

"Quite likely."

"Now Bryant won't be able tuh guard Miss Penny no more, bein' that he's dead."

"I didn't say that he was dead."

"Then he ain't dead?"

"No."

"How close to it is he?"

"There's a good chance for him to recover. I have him hidden in a cave in the Gap."

Yuma reflected on the things that he'd been told. He muttered half aloud and then quite suddenly went berserk. He snatched off his hat, whirled it about his head several times, then threw it on the ground. He jumped on it with both feet while he shouted at the top of his voice. His face was livid with blind rage and fury. He swore with the sincerity of a hen with fresh-hatched chicks and the vocabulary of a mule skinner. He called himself an addleheaded jackass and a crackbrained fool in Mexican as well as English. He berated his bungling, fumbling, thoughtless notions and cursed himself for trying to help Penny by the "loco" means he'd used. He ranted, raved, and raged because he'd taken blame that properly belonged to a double-dyed, limp-brained, stone-faced, soulless old son of a three-tongued rattler, meaning Bryant Cavendish. He declared with rare vehemence that Bryant deserved boiling in hot coal oil, then skinning alive.

Before he ran out of things to say, his breath gave out and he was forced to stop and gasp. His face was red, his eyes were bloodshot from emotion. He grabbed the front of the Lone Ranger's shirt in one huge hand.

"Listen," he said breathlessly, "listen tuh me. I lied when I said I was the leader o' them murderin' skunks an' cattle rustlers. It's Bryant that's the leader. I only thought tuh—"

"I know, Yuma," the Lone Ranger interrupted. "You didn't want Bryant to be taken away from Penelope because he alone could safeguard her."

Yuma still clutched the masked man's shirt. It happened that his hand had closed over the breast pocket, and in that pocket rested the Texas Ranger badge. "I came for you," the Lone Ranger went on, "because it is you that Penelope needs."

"She needs me?" repeated Yuma eagerly. And then in a voice filled with woe, "Aw-w, that ain't so. I know the way she acted tuh me. If I go around where she is, she'll box my ears down."

"I think she's changed her mind about a lot of things since she saw the document her uncle wanted signed. You come along with me, Yuma—you're needed badly."

"Wish't they was somethin' I could do tuh put them crooks all where they belong," said Yuma wistfully. "Of course I c'n jest shoot Bryant when I git tuh him, an' finish what's already started."

"No, you're not going to shoot Bryant Cavendish; you're a witness against him."

"Huh?"

"He tried to kill you. You'll go to law and charge him with attempted murder."

"Me? Go tuh law?" asked Yuma with an amazed look.

The masked man nodded.

"Yuh—yuh mean," said the cowboy, still unable to fully comprehend, "I'm tuh go an' report that he shot at me, an' ask that he be judged fer it?"

"Right."

"But damn it all, I can't do that. Who ever heard o' bein' shot at an' then reportin' it tuh law instead o' shootin' back an' settlin' the matter on the spot?"

The Lone Ranger explained that there had to be some charge filed against Bryant Cavendish to put him in jail. Once there, he could be questioned endlessly until his part in the cattle stealing and the murders was brought out. Merely killing the man would do nothing to solve the killing of the Texas Rangers, of Gimlet, or the man who fired at him the night before. Yuma finally agreed to follow the Lone Ranger's advice, to do whatever he was told; but went on record that he was sure "goin' tuh feel like a damn fool sissy" when he went "tuh the law tuh beef about bein' shot at."

The two boarded the masked man's powerful horse. Before they left the rocks Yuma said, "One thing more, stranger. Jest who the devil are you?"

"If I wanted that known, Yuma, I wouldn't be masked."

Yuma spoke slowly. "When I took ahold of yer shirt, I felt somethin' in yer pocket. It was shaped mighty like a Ranger's badge. I been wonderin' if maybe you ain't a Texas Ranger, an' if so, why the mask?"

"Perhaps I used to belong to the Texas Rangers, Yuma."

"Well—" Yuma paused. "Look here, I can't go on callin' yuh 'stranger'; jest what should I call yuh?"

"My closest friend," the masked man said, "calls me 'The Lone Ranger.'" He heeled Silver, and the stallion lunged forward. Yuma had to cling to keep from spilling. "Hi-Yo Silver, Away-y-y-y," the Lone Ranger shouted.

Such speed in a horse was new to Yuma. He gasped at the power in the long, driving legs of white.

"G-g-gosh," he said against the wind, "this is shore 'nuff a ridin' hoss! I sort o' like that name 'Lone Ranger,' too!"