“A turn about is fair play, Mister Pistols.”
Some laughed at this, but Pistols swore roundly, yet dared not move, for he saw he was caught, the left hand of the scout lying upon his own weapon where it had fallen upon the table, the right holding his revolver within a foot of his eyes.
But the words of the miner had been answered by a savage chorus of voices, crying:
“You is right, Pard Pistols, for Buffalo Bill is the guilty man.”
Still, the pluck of the scout did not desert him, and he never changed expression at the outburst. Encouraged by the cries of his comrades, though under cover of the scout’s pistol, the miner said:
“See here, Buffalo Bill, you has half a hundred guns on you, but we don’t intend ter shoot yer, but hang yer, as you got poor Tom and Jerry strung up, so up with yer hands, mighty quick, says I.”
“Yes, up with your hands, Buffalo Bill!” shouted the crowd savagely, while scores of revolvers covered the scout as he still sat at table, facing the ringleader, whom he yet held his revolver upon, the muzzle within a foot of his eyes.
It certainly did look bad for Buffalo Bill, and for two reasons. First, the charge of Pistols, backed by Dave Dunn, a reputable miner, seemed to be believed by a great many of those present.
Second, the crowd that backed Pistols was not only numerous, but composed of the very worst element in the mines. This shut off many, who felt that the accusation was utterly false, from lending any aid.
Pistols was certainly in danger of instant death at the hands of the scout, but the latter was equally in danger of sudden death from the backers of his accuser. Thus the situation rested until Buffalo Bill broke the silence with: