It was evident that Bad Burke had heard the name before, for his hand quickly slipped from his knife hilt toward a pistol butt.
“Just move one inch, aye, crook your finger, and I’ll send your soul to perdition.”
The pistol of Buffalo Bill covered the heart of the outlaw, who whined out:
“Pard, you’ve the advantage of a fellow and ought to let up a little.”
“I will; miss, will you be kind enough to remove the pistols from that villain’s belt?”
Pearl instantly stepped forward and did as directed, making a motion with the weapons as if about to murder the frightened lieutenant of bandits.
“Thank you; now, Bad Burke, we stand on an equal footing,” and Buffalo Bill cast his pistols upon the ground.
With a suppressed yell of rage Bad Burke rushed upon his cool enemy, for now he believed he had it all his own way, as his boast was not an idle one regarding his prowess with a knife.
Calmly the scout met his attack. The blades clashed together with an ominous ring. Notwithstanding his skill and strength, Bad Burke was hurled backward, and seized in the powerful grip of the scout, whose keen knife gleamed in the sunlight, and then, with a crunching thud, was driven to the hilt in the outlaw’s heart. A stifled groan, and Bad Burke’s cruel life had ended.