“I’m the sheriff,” explained Rising. “Will you fellows come ashore, or shall we come after you?”
“Oh, we won’t make you any more trouble than necessary,” answered Bernritter. “We’ll come ashore.”
“That’s sensible. When you get ready to take the bridge, hand your weapons to Giles and let him come ahead. Do that in plain sight of us, so we can be sure it’s done.”
“We’ll have to bring our horses,” said Bernritter.
“Certainly; but lead them—don’t get on their backs.”
The three heads vanished from the top of the breastwork and, presently, Bascomb, Bernritter, and Giles appeared leading their horses and making for the causeway.
Just before reaching the bridge Giles forged ahead, and Bascomb and Bernritter tendered him their revolvers. With the weapons under his arm, Giles came across the bridge.
“Drop the guns,” said the scout, “get on your horse and scatter out of this.”
“That’s me!” said the gratified Giles, and he was into his saddle like a flash, and spurring away toward the hills.
While Bascomb and Bernritter were coming across, Buffalo Bill released Banks and Hendricks, emptied their six-shooters of cartridges, and dumped all the shells out of their cartridge-belts.