“Sorter down in ther mouth. Made a fool slip when I kem inter the cellar. Thar warn’t any Wild Bill down hyer.”
“I know. We were both fooled.”
“An’ I never knowed I’d been played fer a sucker ontil a few minutes ago. I struck ther ground, an’ a club struck me. Reckon Black-face Ned opined he’d put me outer business fer good an’ all. Made a big beefsteak thar, son. He shore didn’t know that my head is some thicker nor a paper-shell almond. I hev been a’feelin’ uv ther old cabesa, an’, barrin’ a leetle lump, it’s shore somewhat intact.”
“I am glad to hear you say that, Pete,” responded Buffalo Bill earnestly. “I thought you were all in when I discovered that Black-face Ned was here.”
The lanky plainsman stood up and stretched himself. “What all’s happened since I ca’mly deposited myself inter the lap of ther enemy?”
“I’ll tell you after you have satisfied my curiosity on one point. An Apache was killed here in this cellar after you were downed. Do you know anything about the affair?”
“Not a blessed thing, Buffler. I war sleepin’ off my headache when ther killin’ kem off. Ask ther black devil at yer feet, an’ he’ll tell yer what ye want ter know.”
“That’s so. Ned”—speaking to the captured outlaw—“what about this Apache? Did you kill him?”
“Yes,” was the surly answer. “Had to. I took him for you.”
“Then he made a noise coming through the tunnel?”