"Well, she seemed to put a lot o' trust in that Indian, an' he was willin' to drive her there with the buckboard, so I let him do it. They left at daybreak, takin' the kids with 'em."
Wallie looked at Bryant as if anticipating an outburst because he'd permitted the girl to leave the Basin in an Indian's care, but Bryant simply nodded. "I reckon," he said softly, "Penelope must have passed right by me. Wonder why she didn't say somethin' when I yelled. The redskin heard me; why didn't Penelope?"
His question was not answered. He leaned heavily on the railing of the staircase while Wallie walked beside him with the masked man close behind.
A window in the hallway on the second floor looked out toward the corral. The Lone Ranger glanced in that direction and saw the cowhands, their work ignored, converging on the ranch house. He noticed also that their hands were on the butts of their holstered six-guns. He had noticed something else that didn't diminish his apprehension. The furniture and firewood that he had placed to block any attempt to leave the cellar vault had been moved since his last visit. True, the table still rested on the trapdoor, but in a slightly different position.
When Bryant finally entered his bedroom, the Lone Ranger closed the door and stood just to one side.
He studied every detail of the big room while Wallie helped old Bryant get into the heavy oak bed at the far wall. The room was well equipped with furniture. There were three large comfortable-looking chairs, a big round table in the center of the room, a desk against one wall, and the usual bedroom equipment of commode, pitcher, and basin. The desk was something to behold. It seemed to have half a hundred pigeonholes, each one of which bulged to the bursting point with folded papers. There was a curious thing about it: in some of the small compartments the papers were tucked in neatly, while in others the assorted documents were jammed in with what appeared to be a careless haste. Another point was that the sloppy-looking pigeonholes were all at one end of the desk. The masked man made a mental note to have a closer look at the desk at his earliest opportunity.
Wallie pulled a counterpane from the foot of the bed and covered Bryant. "Reckon you'll be all right now, Uncle," he said consolingly. "If there's anything more that I c'n do—"
"There ain't," barked Bryant.