Dakota spoke impatiently:
"Anyone out of the house now?"
"One moment, Dakota," snapped Cockney. "I'll do the questioning. I can answer that one myself. Everyone is in.... I think I'd like to take a look at that corral," he said suspiciously. "Come along, Stamford; you can tell us if things are as you left them. Tell Mary it's all right, will you?"
Stamford spoke to Mary Aikens on his way out. She was sitting in the dark sitting-room, and he imagined she was sobbing. He ran after Cockney and Dakota, and arrived at the corral in time to hear Dakota exclaim:
"Holy cripes!"
Stamford ran forward.
The gate was wide open, but the padlock was still locked. The ponderous mass of logs must have been lifted until the chain would pass over the top of the post to which it was fastened.
"Holy cripes!" Dakota exploded again, when he had examined padlock and post.
He stooped and put his muscle to the heavy gate, but he could scarcely lift its weight from the loops that acted as hinges.
Cockney smiled in a superior way and pushed him away. With a great heave he managed to raise the gate from the ground, but he dared not remove a hand to throw the chain over the post. With a muffled oath he let it drop, and the upper loop snapped, letting the gate sag on the lower hinge.