“Why—why, I thought ye didn’t know Buffler Bill?” gasped Lonesome Pete.
“He was sayin’,” added Hotchkiss, “that he wanted Buffler Bill ter take his little hand an’ show him the sights. Woof! Darned if he ain’t deceived us all around.”
“What happened to you fellows, anyhow?” asked the scout. “It’s a clear case that something went wrong. Did the stage slip over the rim of the cañon?”
“Worse’n thet,” said Chick Billings. “We met Lawless an’ his gang twicet.”
“Fust time wasn’t so bad,” added Pete, one hand wandering to his injured shoulder; “but the second time—wow! Say, thar was fireworks, ground-an’-lofty tumblin’, an’ a hull lot o’ other trimmin’s.”
“Do you mean to say you’ve been through a hold-up?” demanded Buffalo Bill, his brow clouding, “and that Lawless was back of it?”
“He wasn’t back o’ it, Buffler Bill,” said Pete, “not as any one could notice. He was right up front, mighty conspickerous.”
“Did he appear to be injured in any way?”
“Injured? Him? Waal, not so’s ter interfere with his moving about. He was mighty soople; an’ the way he got around was a caution. I know what ye’re thinkin’, Buffler Bill. Ye’re thinkin’ how Hank Blake, from Pass Dure Cañon, allowed he’d notched Lawless, mebby fer keeps. But the whelp didn’t show any signs. He seemed as well as ever, an’ about twicet as active.”
“This is a pretty layout,” muttered Buffalo Bill. “How many men were with Lawless?”