“I think, Buffler, thet they knows you aire in hyar, and they’re after yer hair,” said Nomad.
“I think so,” the scout agreed.
“They knows that you’re a dangerous man ter the likes of their kind, and they intends ter wipe yer out, and all of us thet’s with yer.”
“I think you are right. But while they’re getting ready to beat the door down, or fire the building, or some other pleasant diversion,” said the scout, “you might tell me, Nomad, what several times you have said you wished to tell me.”
Nomad laughed in his chuckling way.
“Buffler, I’d ’a’ told ye long ago, but every time, as you’ll reck’lect, John Latimer was nigh and listenin’. Then ther thing got ter be a sorter joke wi’ me, and I kep’ it goin’ fer ther fun of it. But when fust I come ter this hyar house——”
Even yet old Nick Nomad was not to be permitted to tell his secret; for the outlaws made another rush at this instant, and they jammed against the door a heavy beam of wood, making the panels snap and the stout hinges groan.
Buffalo Bill fired a shot through the door, but it was not a deterrent, and when the log of wood hit the door again the panels splintered and the door fell.
In the dim light a number of men were seen, and their faces were lighted by the flashes of the scout’s pistols. Some of the men went down; but the others rushed on, cursing and howling, treading on the bodies of their fallen companions.
Buffalo Bill and his friends fell back before this deadly rush, knowing that their position was too exposed. The result was that the door was left undefended and the outlaws swarmed through into the house.