“I have not.”
“Were they not the secret foes?”
“No, señor.”
“I did not know but that they might be,” said Buffalo Bill, in a peculiar way.
“No, señor, they were not of that band. Their masked leader was a foe to—to—the señor captain, and to me. I know; but, just who he is I am not aware. He wanted gold, and revenge, as well, it seemed, but he thwarted his purpose as far as getting money was concerned, for, but for your coming, as you so bravely did, he would have killed the señor captain, and from me he would have obtained nothing. The outlaws were strangers in the valley, señor, save their chief, and just who he was I do not know, as I have stated.”
“Perhaps when I call again, señorita, I may be able to inform you as to his identity.”
“Ah! can you?”
“I may,” was the cautious reply, and, declining the offer of refreshments, the scout took his leave, the señorita offering her hand as she bade him farewell.
“Señor, this valley is full of dangerous characters, and one knows not whom to trust. You are going alone upon a dangerous trail, and I warn you that you may be halted and held up, as they say here. This will protect you from robbery, perhaps from death. Wear it!” and she took from the silk scarf about her neck a pin of unique design and fastened it upon the lapel of Buffalo Bill’s jacket.
“Señorita, I will keep it as a souvenir of you; it will doubtless be a charm to protect me. I thank you.”