Chapter XXIII
YUMA RIDES BEHIND A MASKED MAN
The Lone Ranger almost fired instinctively at Yuma. His finger tightened on the trigger, but he caught himself in time. Yuma's last, quick shot went wide. The cowboy stood entirely clear of the rocks that had protected him, holding his gun point-blank on the masked man. For a moment the two stood there tense, each one covering the other, neither moving, neither firing.
Then Yuma let out a wild cry as he threw his six-gun on the ground. "You win, hang it all, I can't shoot yuh. Come on an' take me prisoner."
The Lone Ranger closed the space. He holstered his own gun, then bent and picked up Yuma's weapon.
"Put this where it belongs," he said, extending the weapon butt-end first, "in your holster. You'll probably be needing it again."
There were tears of futility in Yuma's eyes. "I dunno," he said, accepting the gun, "what in hell's the matter with me. Why didn't I shoot yuh? Why'd I let yuh take me?"
"Because you're not a killer," replied the masked man simply.
"The hell I ain't. I'm the man that's—"