“I’ve lost my way,” said the man, “and I’d like to stop here for the night.”
Buffalo Bill had already heard soft footsteps outside and low whispers, and he knew the man was lying.
“You are alone?” he asked.
“Yes, alone, and I’ve lost my way.”
“What are you doing in this remote section?”
“Prospecting.”
“Well, the prospects for you getting into this house before daylight are not good just now. Come around in the morning, and if you are all right we’ll try to give you your breakfast, anyway. But we can’t open the house now.”
As Buffalo Bill expected, the answer to this was a shot through the door.
Being prepared for it, he had stepped softly aside, and the lead plowed harmlessly through the panel and lodged in the wall. Following the shot there was a rush upon the door, in an attempt to smash it from its hinges; but the door was a stout affair and resisted this attempt to force it.
When the rush had failed, silence followed for a short time; the outlaws were only preparing for a more desperate attempt.