“All right, neighbor; if that is your game I’m agreeable.” And without a quiver the scout handed his own gun to Hickok and stepped forward.
Dan deliberately laid his big revolvers on a table, spat on his hands, and then suddenly rushed.
The scout did not expect such a move from the previous deliberate movements, but he was not caught at a disadvantage. Wheeling like a flash, he caught the big fellow, half-buttocked him, and stretched the giant breathless on his back on the floor. The crowd cheered, and Fighting Dan regained his feet slowly, a sadder and wiser bad man. He had never suffered such humiliation before.
“Who be yew, amigo?” he asked, extending his hand.
“Friend,” answered Buffalo Bill; “I have never been ashamed of my name, but for to-night it is not to be made public property. I am steering my own canoe without instructions, and I don’t drink at any man’s order. I am willing to go some distance to please, but it is the business of no man here what my name may be. Good night.”
Buffalo Bill and his pards pushed through the cheering barroom gathering which had increased to a mob, and made their way to their rooms on the floor above.
After the scout had left the discomfited Dan relieved his mind as follows:
“By ther rip-roarin’ Jeehokibus! That there tarnal is a hull cyclone an’ a few whirlwinds ter boot.”