His voice was hoarse as he shouted to Penny, "Who is that Indian's friend?" His repeated question was simply an excuse to hold the girl. His voice was hoarse. "Who is that Indian's friend?" "I am!" It was a new voice, a deeply resonant one that spoke from behind Rangoon. "Stand back," the same voice snapped. Rangoon swore and whirled as he snatched out his gun with catlike speed and agility. The releasing of the girl, the turning, the drawing, and the firing, all seemed part of one smooth flowing movement that came from instinct. Wide-eyed, Penny saw Rangoon's gun jump as it lashed flame and smoke toward the newcomer. The gun seemed a thing alive--it leaped free of Rangoon's hand and flew in an arc across the clearing. Rangoon screamed a livid curse of pain as he gripped his gun hand. The stranger, standing ten feet away, had his own weapon back in its holster. Penny saw that the man was tall; his hat was white and clean, and his face was masked. Rangoon's hand must have hurt terribly, to judge from his violent cursing. Penny had a dazed, detached feeling as she watched the two men. Rangoon, still cursing, held a hand that stung from the force of the bullet that had knocked his own gun away. The stranger with the mask stepped forward and slapped Rangoon on the face. The blow did not appear to be hard-swung, but it sent Rangoon sprawling on the ground. "That's enough of that talk," the stranger said in his crisp but nonetheless pleasant voice. Penny heard another sound, and turned as Tonto came from behind the trees. The masked man spoke again. "You're not hurt badly. My bullet struck your gun, not your hand." "You'll pay fer this," Rangoon cried. "I'll see yuh shot up, a little at a time--I'll have my men git yuh, you wait." The Lone Ranger turned to Tonto. "You'd better gag him, Tonto," he said. "It's going to be hard to talk above that noise." Tonto grinned and leaped astride Rangoon, who made no attempt to rise from the ground. What the killer said was muffled as Tonto jammed a knotted cloth into his mouth. "When he's gagged, rope him." Tonto nodded and his expression said, "Gladly." Penny watched with interest. She knew she should mount and ride at once for the Basin, but there was something about the masked man that held her, and there were things she wanted to ask. Who was this stranger whose chin was so well shaped? Why was he masked? She instinctively liked him, aside from the help he'd given her. She liked his efficient manner of handling Rangoon. Beyond the trees she caught a glimpse of Silver. This, then, was the man to whom she had sent food. The man for whom Tonto had asked help. This was the owner of the magnificent stallion. "Friend," she thought. "That's who he is. Tonto's friend." She remembered the way Tonto had spoken of him, then understood the tone the Indian had used when he said, "My friend." Chapter XIV THE TRAIL LEADS DOWN