“Now,” the scout went on, “did some one tell you to attack me here?”
The Mexican was so scared he could hardly speak, but he managed to stammer out another denial.
“No one told you to do it?”
“No, señor.”
“You simply wanted my pistols?”
“Si, señor.”
The scout was in a measure disappointed and baffled. He had thought that perhaps this man had been ordered to assault him. Yet he knew that the lower-class Mexicans are such liars that even their most solemn statements cannot always be believed. So he was still suspicious on that point. He threw the knife to the crouching and whining scamp.
“Clear out!” he said. “And if you trouble me again I shall certainly kill you. Clear out!”
The Mexican grabbed the knife and bolted through the door.
When Buffalo Bill had looked at his horse and had given him some hay, he left the stable. The Mexican had disappeared. On approaching the house the scout once more encountered Pizen Kate, still hunting for her husband. She fairly cackled with glee, when he asked her if she had seen anything of the Mexican servant.