Buffalo Bill was too grateful to ask questions.
The mysteries of the house, at least, were becoming no longer mysteries. For it was plain that it had been constructed with a view to quick and secret entrance and exit, which, of course, necessitated the hidden doors and secret passages. All of which might be used in a perfectly legitimate manner, as this land of danger made the use of such devices exceedingly wise at times.
“Even if they should find that tunnel,” said the young man, “they couldn’t easily reach us here by coming through it; for one man at this end of it could hold it against a hundred, if properly armed. And it wouldn’t be easy for them to get down here by way of the path from above, nor could they readily climb up from below in the darkness. In the morning, of course, it would be different; they might reach us then, if they discovered where we were.”
After a time, when it became apparent that the outlaws were looting the house, Buffalo Bill asked to be shown how to get to the top of the bluff, and, with some hesitation, the youth piloted him.
Coming out again thus upon the mesa, in the starlight, the house and its surroundings were clearly visible to the scout, who now advanced cautiously, anxious to know something more about these outlaws, to get some clearer idea, if possible, of who they were.
He swerved round toward the stables, in quest of old Nebuchadnezzar, and, as he did so, he came face to face with a man who challenged him.
“I’m one of the band,” said the scout, at a venture, dropping hand to weapon.
The man was not deceived. His revolver came out, and the bullet whistled by the scout’s cheek. Almost at the same instant Buffalo Bill returned fire, and the man fell.
The shooting drew a number of men out of the house, and the scout saw it was prudent to retreat.
Crawling back toward the hiding place by the river, he bumped into Nick Nomad.