“Which don’t prove et wasn’t Benson,” Nomad objected. “Thet feller kin change his looks more than any actor thet ever helped ther bloodhounds chase Eliza. When we last seen him he was wearin’ one o’ Miss Vera Bright’s dresses and doin’ ther woman act. Benson is rale cute.”
“Budt he couldn’t make himselluf so dall as dot, couldt he, mitout sdilts?”
“Waal, who’s ter know he warn’t w’arin’ stilts?” said Nomad, determined to meet all objections, for he was sure that the man seen could be none other than Benson.
But a minute later he was undeceived; the man appeared in full view for just a second, then jumped back behind his rock.
“Waugh!” Nomad whooped now, rubbing his eyes. “Ef thet ain’t ole Jim Betts, I’m er Piegan.”
“Right-o! None other!” chimed in Wild Bill.
Buffalo Bill had discovered the same thing. He stepped out, so that Jim Betts could see him clearly.
Thereupon the hidden man appeared again; this time coming toward them with tremendous strides of his long, birdlike legs.
“Thunder and carry one!” the man from Laramie exploded. “What’s Betts doing here?”
“Vhen he iss arrifed he vill exblandion idt,” suggested the German.