"A woman!" he muttered, fiercely, as he saw a tall and queenly-looking girl standing there, with flashing eyes, which did not drop at his gaze.
"Yes–a woman, who has heard of Wild Bill, and neither fears nor admires him!" she said, undauntedly.
"Is the fellow that rode off on the horse your husband or lover that you take his part?" asked Bill, half angrily and half wondering at the temerity of the lovely girl who thus braved his anger.
"He is neither," she replied, scornfully.
"I'm glad of it. I shall not make you a widow or deprive you of a future husband when he comes under my fire, if he should be fool enough to come back."
"He comes now. See for yourself. He has tamed the horse–now comes your turn, coward and braggart!"
Bill was white with anger; but she was a woman, mind no matter what he felt, too well he knew the chivalry of the far West to raise a hand or even speak a threatening word to her. But he heard men around him murmur her name.
It was Addie Neidic.
And then he turned his eyes upon the black horse and rider. The animal, completely under control, though flecked with foam, came down the street slowly and gently, bearing his rider with an air of pride rather than submission. As he passed the German restaurant, the rider raised his hat in salutation to Willie Pond, who stood in his window, and said, in a cheerful voice:
"Remain in your room. I have news for you and will be there soon."