“I cal’lated et, soon’s I seen ’twas you!” said Nomad.
“Tim Benson is coming in the stage, so I was told. Shepard gave me the word; and though it is just a guess, I straddled my animal and brought it to you.”
“And the stage is due here at almost any minute,” was Buffalo Bill’s comment.
“Yes, I reckon it is. I rode like the devil was after me, for I was bound to git here first. Shepard is to follow it with a posse; but it’ll take him half a day, likely, to turn round a few times and get under way.”
“Uff idt iss drue,” said the baron, “I gan see some bromise of a varm dimes goming. Dot Penson iss a fighdter.”
“Anybody with him?” the scout asked.
“Yes—and it’s a funny thing! Vera Bright is in the same stage.”
“Waugh!” Nomad whooped. “Thet actress woman. But she’s his inemy.”
“As I understand it, she didn’t know he was to go, and perhaps didn’t recognize him; he’s got a wonderful way of changing his appearance—never saw anything like it. The only thing I’m afraid of is that a mistake has been made, and he ain’t in the stage with her at all. She went; that’s sure. And a man went—a small man, about the size of Benson; one of the stableboys says he knows it was Benson. Now you know all I do.”
“Budt ve vill haf to do some mofing kvick,” averred the baron. “You vill pe hearing dot stage in apowet fife minudes.”