“And I have been here almost eight years,” said Henderson. “I guess I shall have to ride a little more in order to get accustomed to the customs of the country. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t say,” returned the spokesman.
“My name is Henderson,” replied the guest, who wished most heartily that he had gone somewhere else. He didn’t like the way the spokesman answered his last question.
“My name is—— Which one do you want?”
“Why, the one you go by, of course.”
“Well, the name that I go by just now is Coyote Bill,” said the man, pushing his spurred heels a little closer to the fire. “You have heard of me, I reckon?”
Henderson was startled to hear this name. He had heard of him a good many times while in Austin, and had never expected to meet him in this unceremonious manner. He knew that he was in the power of a desperado of the worst sort.
CHAPTER XIII.
HENDERSON MEETS COYOTE BILL.
“Yes, that is the name I go by now,” said Coyote Bill, grinning when he saw Henderson’s expression of astonishment. “What my other name is no one in this country knows. Whenever you hear that name spoken you will know what I look like. I came to this country the same as you did.”