But, when he reached the cellar, he found only some boxes and canned provisions in a rack at one side, and a various litter all kept in close order. Big stones had been chiseled roughly into shape to build the walls, and the flooring was as dry as the floor of the house. It was, on the whole, a very solid bit of work. A good place to imprison a man, for instance. At this thought Dozier glanced up sharply and saw the other holding the trapdoor ajar. Something about that implacable, bony face made Dozier turn and hurry back up the stairs to the main floor of the house. "Nice bit of work down there," he said. "I can use that idea very well. Well," he added carelessly, "I wonder when my fool posse will get through hunting for the remains of poor Lanning? Come to think of it"--for it occurred to him that if the old man were indeed concealing the outlaw he might not know the price which was on his head--"there's a pretty little bit of coin connected with Lanning. Too bad you didn't drop him when he came to your door." "Drop a helpless man--for money?" asked the old man. "Never, Dozier!" "He hadn't long to live, anyway," answered the marshal in some confusion. Those old, straight eyes of Pop troubled him. He fenced with a new stroke for a confession. "For my part, I've never had much heart in this work of mine." "He killed your brother, didn't he?" asked Pop with considerable dryness. "Bill made the wrong move," replied Hal instantly. "He never should have ridden Lanning down in the first place. Should have let the fool kid go until he found out that Buck Heath wasn't killed. Then he would have come back of his own accord." "That's a good idea," remarked the other, "but sort of late, it strikes me. Did you tell that to the sheriff?" "Late it is," remarked Dozier, not following the question. "Now the poor kid is outlawed. Well, between you and me, I wish he'd gotten away clean-handed. But too late now. "By the way," he went on, "I'd like to take a squint at your attic, too. That ladder goes up to it, I guess." "Go ahead," said Pop. And once more he tamped his pipe. There was a sharp, shrill cry from the boy, and Dozier whirled on him. He saw a pale, scared face. "What's the matter?" he asked sharply. "What's the matter with you, Jud?" And he fastened his keen glance on the boy. Vaguely, from the corner of his eye, he felt that Pop had taken the pipe from his mouth. There was a sort of breathless touch in the air of the room. "Nothin'," said Jud. "Only--you know the rungs of that ladder ain't fit to be walked on, grandad!" "Jud," said the old man with a strained tone, "It ain't my business to give warnin's to an officer of the law--not mine. He'll find out little things like that for himself."