“Ach! Iss dot so-o?” gasped the baron.
“It’s so.”
“Py yiminy, dhen——”
But the scout cut in, to keep the baron from making some damaging statement:
“I suppose there must be something in your general appearance which caused Juniper Joe to make that fool mistake?”
The stranger laughed at that.
“If so, it came near being a fatal blunder for me!”
The scout and his pards were making a careful study of the man, without appearing to do so.
“It was a clost call,” said Nomad. “But yer war too quick fer him! Shootin’ out ther lights is a star play, ef a man kin do et; an’ you rung the bell at the fust crack. Buffler, here, couldn’t done et no better.”
“Thanks for the compliment! But”—turning to Buffalo Bill—“I don’t think I much resemble Benson, except that we are both small men—rather undersized, you know; which is a marked thing in this country, where nearly all the men are so big.”