“Jest a minit, you Buffalo Bill,” said Hendricks. “Don’t go off half cocked till ye hear what Banks an’ me hev got ter say.”
“You haven’t a thing to say that interests me,” Buffalo Bill answered. “Get up here, Cayuse,” he called. “Sit on the horse with your back to mine, so you can watch the prisoners as we ride. Give him one of those revolvers, Dell. He can shoot with his left hand, if the prisoners make it necessary.”
While these orders were being carried out, the prisoners, who were stirrup to stirrup with each other, were exchanging low-spoken words.
When the cavalcade was ready to start, Cayuse was riding with his face to the rear, a six-shooter in his left hand, and Dell was behind the prisoners. Thus watched from front and rear, and bound and helpless, such a thing as escape was an impossibility.
“I tell ye ter wait,” cried Hendricks, “afore ye go on any further with this here pufformance. Takin’ us ter the Phœnix calaboose ain’t goin’ ter help ye none in locatin’ Annie McGowan.”
“We’ll find her,” said the scout confidently, “and we’ll find Bascomb and Bernritter, too.”
“Ye’ll never find ’em if ye don’t listen ter Banks an’ me.”
“It’s my opinion,” said the scout, “that Banks and you can lie faster than a dog can trot.”
“We’ll make a deal with ye,” proceeded Hendricks, anxious and desperate.