While debating it, he saw in the darkness Lieutenant Joel Barlow ride down to the palisade gate and ride forth alone into the night.
This looked so suspicious that the scout lost no time in getting his horse and following. But, quickly as he moved, Barlow had returned to the corner of the wall and was talking with Smallpox Dave before the scout got outside.
Thus it chanced that as Buffalo Bill rode on and away from the fort, seeking for the crafty lieutenant, the latter, having scaled the wall and dropped down inside, was making his way toward the abode of Mrs. McGee, where the girl had been lodged.
When he approached this section of the house, which adjoined the big cook room, and found Mrs. McGee’s ample form directly in front of him, for she was sitting in the doorway and saw him before he saw her, he was forced to play again a crafty game.
“A good evening to you, Mrs. McGee,” he said, lifting his cap gallantly.
“Bad cess to the likes av all av ye!” said outspoken Mrs. McGee. “The Lard niver made ye, I know, and may the divil fly away wid his works, says I!”
“A kindly greeting, Mrs. McGee,” he said, trying to laugh and to seem at ease. “Your tongue must have been scraping over the grindstone lately, I’m judging. What are you swearing at me about?”
“Swearin’ at yez, is it? Who be swearin’ at ye?”
“Why, I thought you were.”
“I wouldn’t waste me breath swearin’ at ye.”