He studied two more bunks and then heard the moan again. This time it was unmistakable. The Lone Ranger hurried to the far end of the bunkhouse, and there, in the lower bunk on his right, he found a man unconscious. The window over the head of the still form was open. It was outside this window that the unknown rider had been first seen. The unconscious man--the Lone Ranger could see in the dim light that he was old--was shadowed by the shelf-like bunk of the second tier. The Lone Ranger unhooked a lamp that swung from the ceiling and placed it so that the light fell across the bald head, which lay in a widening pool of red. He jerked his bandanna from a pocket and soused it in a near-by water pitcher; then he bathed the old fellow's face. A tremulous soft sob broke through the white mustache. The eyes of the wounded man fluttered slightly, then stared up. There was an empty socket where the left eye should have been, but the other eye was bright with pain. "Take it easy," the Lone Ranger whispered. "I'm going to have a look at that wound and see what we can do for you. Don't try to speak just yet--wait a little." He turned the old man gently to his side and saw the handle of a knife protruding from high up on one shoulder. The blade was out of sight. He didn't touch the knife--there was no use. The wound was fatal; Gimlet at best had only a few minutes. He applied more water to the old man's face and forehead. "Tell me, if you can, who did this?" he said. Gimlet's lips moved feebly, but no words came. "Do you know who stabbed you?" asked the Lone Ranger. "One word, just the name of the man, can you tell me that?" Gimlet lifted one hand very feebly, and pointed toward the open window. The Lone Ranger nodded. "I know, he stabbed you through that window. Tell me who it was." The dying man seemed to be gathering himself for one supreme effort. He swallowed hard; his eyelids closed, then opened. "Tried," he said, then coughed and started again. "I--I tried tuh--get Yuma--His bunk here--" More coughing choked the words. Blood drooled from the side of the old man's mouth and stained his white mustache. The Lone Ranger pressed water from his handkerchief against Gimlet's lips. "I heard you," he said softly, "I heard what you said. You tried to get Yuma. Yuma is a man who works here?" Gimlet nodded. "You said this was his bunk?" Again the slowly moving head went down and up. "Tell me some more. What about Yuma?"