It was just before sunset, as they passed Hangman’s Gulch, and they glanced up into the dark recesses of the cañon, with many a misgiving that they would soon be more intimately acquainted with the weird and dreaded spot.
Just as twilight was falling, the scout heard the supper-horn of the Frying Pan Hotel, and from that moment a stream of humanity began to pour out of the mines and cabins, and flow toward the rendezvous of the miners on every night.
They quickly caught sight of Buffalo Bill, whose handsome face and form were seldom seen in Yellow Dust Valley, and, beholding his prisoners, they began to call out, in many an odd question, as to what it meant.
“Ho, Tom and Jerry, what’s up?”
“Ain’t thet Buf’ler Bill?”
“What has yer got ’em in limbo fer, pard?”
“Has they been robbin’ a hen-roost?”
“Say, pard, what has they been up ter?”
“Is yer goin’ ter hang ’em?”
“They’ll be no loss.”