The scout understood. The stealthy sounds were coming nearer and nearer along the tunnel, and the scout would rather have met his enemies with bullets than with words, but just then Wah-coo-tah’s plan seemed best.
“Lawless!” the scout cried.
The movements stopped, and a low, mocking laugh came out of the heavy gloom.
“Who speaks?” demanded a voice.
“Buffalo Bill.”
“What do you want, Buffalo Bill?”
“I want you to stand where you are, and not come another step this way.”
“What you want, and what you’ll get,” was the taunting reply, “are two different things. I have the upper hand here. You came to the Forty Thieves thinking you would trap the trappers; and you thought I did not know Wild Bill had discovered that rich vein in the ‘drift.’ I knew about that when I made out that deed, and I knew very well the rich vein would tempt you to come here. However, I let you suppose I thought the Forty Thieves worthless, and that I was summoning you here to pit my strength against yours.”
Captain Lawless gave another laugh—a laugh that held a ringing note of triumph.
“I am not the fool you think me,” he went on. “The Forty Thieves is a bonanza, but it will never belong to you. You and your pards are on my trail, and when you are out of the way, I can take possession of the mine and work it myself. There is a method in my plans. Your greed to get possession of the mine, which you knew to be valuable, and which you believed I thought worthless, has placed you in the jaws of death. Two of your pards are already in my hands. By to-morrow noon their scalps will swing from the girdles of my Cheyennes; but you—well, yours is to be a different fate. That is why I left you here when I could have had you dragged away with Hickok; that is why I did not let a Cheyenne knife do its work with you; and so sure was I that I would ‘get’ you, that I did not even trouble to remove your weapons.”