“Wait a minute,” said the scout. “I don’t like talking through a door, and I’m coming out.”
Perry made a gesture of protest.
“I want to reason with these men,” said the scout, in a low tone, “and I can do it better face to face with them.”
“But what if they should capture you?” murmured Mrs. Dunbar, her voice sharp with apprehension. “What should we do then, Buffalo Bill, with you taken from us?”
“He won’t be captered, gal,” returned old Nomad. “I’ll let Buffler out, an’ I’ll stand by ther door ter let him in ag’in. He’ll come in a-hummin’ ef they make er move ter rush him.”
The scout took a precautionary look through the loophole and stepped to the door. The trapper lifted the bar and the scout stepped to the front of the cabin.
The cowboy scowled at him. There were no more than five of the H-P outfit in sight, the others being scattered around the cabin.
“Call the rest of your party here,” said the scout. “I want to talk to all of you.”
“Think I’m easy?” snorted the cowboy. “When them from the back part o’ the house come here, Dunbar’ll hike through the kitchen door an’ git inter the woods.”
“Dunbar isn’t going to run,” declared the scout. “I knew you men were coming from the Phelps ranch, and brought the news here two or three hours ago. If Nate had wanted to run he would have had plenty of chance. He’s an innocent man, and I think I can make you fellows see it and leave here in peace.”