“Hattie. Those books are all hers.” Dunbar waved a trembling hand toward the shelf over the table.
The scout picked up an overturned chair, and seated himself.
“Miss Perry was here, sitting in the rocking-chair by the lamp and reading,” said he. “Some one came here and took her and her father away by force. It hardly seems to me as though these cattle barons, lawless though they are, would have dared to go to such extremes. They may be back of what has happened, but some of their hirelings did the work.”
Dunbar reeled against the wall, and caught his head in his hands.
“Tact and diplomacy!” he bitterly exclaimed. “How can you use weapons like those against such a pack of scoundrels? Cold steel is what they need! By Heaven, it’s only a two hours’ gallop to Benner’s! I’ll go there and make him answer for this!”
The cowboy jumped from the wall, and started for the door.
“Dunbar!”
There was a compelling note in the scout’s voice. The cowboy halted, and turned his haggard face.
“Sit down!” ordered the scout. “If I and my pards are to help you, I want you to keep a cool head, and not go off on any fool tangent. You can be of assistance to me—but only by showing a different spirit.”
“Buffalo Bill,” cried Dunbar, “if you had seen the Perrys tramped on and mistreated as I have, you’d be murder mad just as I am over this last outrage.”