The yell that greeted his words showed the temper of the crowd, which began to sway to and fro wildly, preparing for a rush upon the two men now at bay.
“I am sorry you came, Frank, for it only brings you into a tight place,” said Buffalo Bill, in a low tone to the Surgeon Scout, and he at once drew a second revolver from his belt to have it ready, though he did not take his eyes off of the miner whom he covered.
“I don’t mind it, Bill, and I’m always ready to die, if need be, for a comrade. If they make a rush, kill that man, then stand back to back with me and let us make a record before we go under,” was Frank Powell’s response.
“I’m with you, Frank,” rejoined Cody, and he added, addressing the miner:
“You started this circus, Mister Pistols, but you won’t see the end of it.”
“Cuss you, I’ll call ’em off if you’ll call it quits,” returned Pistols eagerly, now thoroughly terrified when he saw another leader in the field who meant to precipitate matters independent of him.
“Pard, you talk in your sleep, for you could no more call off that pack than you could tell the truth. No, you set the tune and the song must be sung through.”
In the meanwhile, the Surgeon Scout was watching the wildly swaying crowd, which were gradually drawing closer about them, and he was just about to open fire when there suddenly rang out a clear voice above the noisy hum:
“Hold! What does this mean, I should like to know?”
Instantly there was silence, intense in that it followed such an uproar.