With his war cry ringing on his lips, a revolver in each hand and his spurs held to the flanks of Midnight, Buffalo Bill rushed to the charge. It was a thrilling, desperate scene. Shot after shot was poured at the daring man. One of Kent King’s followers fired upon the scout from the barroom window.
Instantly the miscreant dropped, cut down by the deadly aim of Buffalo Bill. Another fired at him, and went reeling with a bullet through him.
Up the steps Midnight bounded with his daring rider, while the scout’s revolvers flashed fire. It was more than Kent King and his murderers could stand.
In another second Midnight was upon the piazza, and charged right into the barroom, from which men were scattering by the dozen. Within a minute the barroom was empty, though one of Kent King’s miscreants lay dead on the floor.
Old Negotiate, racing at Midnight’s heels, entered the barroom at this juncture, and bawled:
“Bill, he hev lit out!”
“Who?” Buffalo Bill demanded.
“The boss of ’em all.”
“The leader?”
“Yes, Captain Corduroy.”