But he was on William Porter's service; he pictured himself walking into the bank from a fruitless quest, but one which would attract attention to himself. If they found the boy and released him safely, he would share the thanks and praise which would be the reward of the rescuing party. He had no idea that Snyder would be captured; and he even planned to help him escape if he could do so. They had turned off from the main highway and were well up in the branch road that ran to the Poindexter place. "This is right, Wheaton, isn't it?" asked Saxton, drawing up the ponies. "Yes, this is the ranch road." They went forward slowly. The clouds were more compactly marshaled now and the stars were fewer. Suddenly Saxton brought the ponies to a stand and pointed to a dark pile that loomed ahead of them. The Poindexter house stood forth somber in the thin starlight. "Is that the place?" asked the bishop, now wide awake. "That's it," said Wheaton. "This road ends there. The river's just beyond the cottonwoods. That first building was Poindexter's barn. It cost more than the court house of this county." Saxton gave the reins to Raridan and jumped out. "No more smoking," he said, throwing away his cigar. "You stay here and I'll reconnoiter a bit." He walked swiftly toward the great barn which lay between him and the house. There was no sign of life in the place. He crept through the barb-wire fence into the corral. He had barred and padlocked the barn door on his last visit, and he satisfied himself that the fastenings had not been disturbed. There were no indications that any one had visited the place. He reasoned that if Snyder had sought the ranch house for a rendezvous he had not come afoot. Saxton was therefore disappointed to find the barn door locked and the corral empty; there was little use in looking further, he concluded; but before joining the others he resolved to make sure that the house also was empty. It was quite dark and he walked boldly up to it. The wind had risen and whistled shrilly around it; a loose blind under the eaves flapped noisily as he drew near. The great front door was closed; he pushed against it and found it securely fastened. He had brought with him a key to a rear door, and he started around the house to try it and to make sure that the house was not occupied. At the corner toward the river, glass suddenly crunched under his feet. The windows were deeply embrasured all over the house, and he could not determine where the glass had fallen from. The windows were all intact when he left, he was sure. He drew off his glove and tiptoed to the nearest panes, ran his fingers over the smooth glass, and instantly touched a broken edge. As he was feeling the frame to discover the size of the opening, the low whinny of a horse came distinctly from within.