Peppajee looked back to see why Grant paused there, and then,
wrapping his blanket tightly around him, crawled through the
fence, and went on, keeping to the broad belt of shade cast upon
the ground by the row of poplars. Where the shade stopped
abruptly, and beyond lay white moonlight with the ranch buildings
blotching it here and there, he stopped and waited until Good
Indian stood close beside him. Even then he did not speak, but,
freeing an arm slowly from the blanket folds, pointed toward the
stable.
Grant looked, saw nothing, stared harder, and so; feeling sure
there must be something hidden there, presently believed that a
bit of the shadow at that end which was next the corral wavered,
stopped, and then moved unmistakably. All the front of the
stable was distinctly visible in the white light, and, while they
looked, something flitted across it, and disappeared among the
sage beyond the trail.
Again they waited; two minutes, three minutes, five. Then
another shadow detached itself slowly from the shade of the
stable, hesitated, walked out boldly, and crossed the white sand
on the path to the house.
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