“Then I heerd a man call out, an’ voices talking, so I lit out, thinkin’ they must be his frien’s, an’ I come rapid, sah, thinkin’ I c’u’d reach the fort afore I died.”
Buffalo Bill was now convinced that the negro had a secret of importance to tell, so he gave him another steak, some hoecake, and a cup of coffee, and watched him eat it with the look of a half-starved animal.
“I am mighty glad I met you, my man. What is your name?”
“Black Bill, dey calls me, sah.”
“All right, that is one bond between us, for my name is Bill. Did you ever hear of Buffalo Bill?”
“Is I hear ob him, sah? Indeed I has, an’ dere ain’t nobody livin’ dat ain’t.”
“Well, I am Buffalo Bill.”
The look on the negro’s face at this information fairly startled the scout.
“You is de very man I’s lookin’ fer,” exclaimed the negro finally, after he had recovered from his surprise. “Yas, sah, I knows you is Massa Buf’ler Bill, I does, as he tole me jist how ye looked.”
“Who did?”