The Lone Ranger could scarcely suppress a smile at the thorough reasoning of his companion. He urged the blond man to continue. "What are you getting at?" he said. "Me, I ain't nothin' but a cowhand an' ain't been in here long. I ain't had much of anything tuh do yet. I ain't no way important tuh you. Now, if I was tuh tell yuh where you could locate this Yuma yer huntin', would yuh let me go free?" "But it's Bryant I want." Yuma became confidential. "Yer wrong." "Wrong?" The other nodded. "That's what I said. 'Tain't Bryant yuh want at all. It's Yuma is the leader of the bunch, just like Lonergan said." The Lone Ranger took this announcement calmly. Yuma, having thought the thing over from all angles, felt that it was vitally important for Penny's sake to keep this masked rider, whose resolute purpose was to capture Bryant, from doing so, since Bryant was the only living man who could protect the girl. He pressed arguments on the Lone Ranger, using everything that Penny had previously told him in her uncle's behalf. "The old man don't know what's goin' on about the place no more," he said. "He can't walk around no more, can't ride much, can't even see good. Yer barkin' up the wrong tree, stranger, an' I'm agoin' tuh put yuh right." The irony of it. If only Yuma, in the misdirected chivalry of his glib lies, could have known that it was he, and not the uncle she felt had proved faithless, that the girl wanted. But Yuma didn't know. He went on at great length. "I'll tell yuh jest where you c'n find Yuma," he concluded, "if you'll promise tuh turn me loose." The Lone Ranger agreed. "Then cut the ropes on my hands." "Whoa, Silver." "Whoa thar, you, hoss." The ropes were cut. Yuma chafed his hands for several moments while he scrutinized the Gap in both directions, and weighed his chances. His own horse was fresh, the masked man's had already covered many miles. His rifle was still in its leather scabbard, his six-guns still in place. "You," he said, kneeing his horse aside, "want tuh know whar Yuma is at, eh?" The tall masked man nodded. "Wal, yer lookin' right at him!" A gun leaped into Yuma's hand. "I'd as soon as not drill yuh clean," he barked in a harsh, loud voice, "but if yuh leave me git away, you'll stay alive." He spurred his horse with such a force that the beast fairly leaped off all four feet at once. Another instant, and Yuma was clattering through the Gap away from Bryant's Basin. "Should o' shot him," he thought, "I should o' shot him, but instead I'll git away. Let him trail me, let him spend a lifetime huntin' me--it'll keep him off'n Bryant's trail." Heedless of the risk, he tore ahead, wind whipping at his face, and neckerchief. He thought of Penelope and something choked in his throat. At least, the girl would be safe while Bryant lived.