Fear of that deadly revolver caused the man to begin to strip without questioning.
“Now, you may have this blanket, in place of the clothes. It will keep you warm all right, in this summer weather, and keep the mosquitoes off of you, perhaps, if they are many up here.”
Having said this, he retied the rascal and once more gagged him completely; though the man did a good deal of grumbling, and was only kept quiet by fear of instant death.
Buffalo Bill now arrayed himself in the garments of the sentinel, even to the hat and found, fortunately, that, though he was a large man, the sentinel was about as large, and the clothing fitted fairly well.
“Not a bad-looking double of this fellow, if I keep my face concealed,” was the scout’s thought.
Then he left the sentinel, and left his own clothing in a niche in the rock, and, carrying the one blanket that remained, went back into the gulch trail and on toward the camp of Ricardo.
He did not stop until he was in the gorge and once more opposite the cabins of the outlaws. The moon was rising, and its light began to illuminate the little valley holding the outlaw camp.
Within the shadow of the gorge Buffalo Bill halted, to take a full survey of all that lay before him. Not so many outlaws were to be seen. Most of them were probably eating their evening meal. But within the cabin of Ricardo, at which the scout looked longest, several men were visible through the window that looked outward toward the gorge.
Then Buffalo Bill began to work out one of the most daring plans of his daring career. Stepping boldly out of the gorge and trusting to the outlaw’s clothing to deceive the sentinel, he walked slowly toward the cabin.
The sentinel saw him coming—could not help seeing him—and looked at him intently. But the scout had his rough hat pulled well down over his face, almost concealing it, and the suspicions of the sentinel were not yet aroused.