“Tricked!” said Benson.
With one sweep of his hand he knocked the lamp from the table, smashing it; then they heard him crash through the one little window.
Another man tried to follow him; when there was a flash and report, and he rolled to the floor; the man was Williams.
“Hands up, everybody! The next who tries it will be shot down!”
The words were from Buffalo Bill.
“Cody, I’m the boss fool, after all; and deservin’ the name of the Fool of Folly Mountain; if I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have put the lamp where it could have been knocked over. But you get by that window and down the first critter that tries to go by you.”
“I’m by et now,” came in the voice of Nomad; “and you bet ther next devil tries it he goes down, jest like this thing on the floor that has swallered ther lead pill I sent at him. Gents, we’re hyer fer clean bizness.”
The Fool of Folly Mountain got another lamp, from a stand near his elbow, and lighted it; then, holding it over his head, he looked at the table.
Gopher Gabe, White-eyed Moses, and Juniper Joe sat there, rigid and scared; on the floor by the window, which had a ragged hole in it, lay the body of Williams.
“Who in the devil’s name air you?” the saloon keeper howled at the Fool, his tongue so thick he could hardly pronounce the words.