“Stop your struggling,” said he, “and you’ll be a whole lot better off.”
“What do you mean by making an attack on me, right on my own ground?” asked Phelps.
“That’s where we begin to talk business, Phelps,” said the scout. “The prisoner you have in this room is Dick Perry?”
“Yes, that’s my name,” spoke up the prisoner.
In some manner Perry had freed himself of his gag and was able to talk.
Keeping a wary eye on the barons, Buffalo Bill backed over to Perry and pulled the stick from under his knees. Perry at once arose to his feet and slipped his hands out of the coils at his wrists.
“I owe you a debt of gratitude for this,” said he; “a debt that I——”
“Never mind that now, Perry,” interrupted the scout. “We’re not out of the woods yet by a long shot. Is your daughter here, at Phelps’ ranch?”
A wild look crossed Perry’s face.
“My daughter?” he returned. “Good heavens! You don’t mean to say that she—that these scoundrels have——”