While he was with Hotchkiss and Pete, the scout and the rest of his pards went out in front. Wing Hi was just depositing four war-bags on the ground near the horses. Wild Bill had had the bags filled with rations.
All swung to the backs of their horses, and the war-bags were strapped at the saddle-cantles. Presently Gentleman Jim issued hurriedly from the hotel and climbed into his saddle.
“Hotchkiss and Pete are all right,” he announced. “The only thing that worries them is that they can’t take part in this expedition. If they were to try that, however, I wouldn’t answer for the consequences.”
“They have done their part,” said the scout. “Spurs and quirts, boys!”
Spurs rattled, quirts swished, and the party rode off at a gallop, heading for the rim of the gulch.
There were six of them—Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, Nomad, Dell Dauntless, Gentleman Jim, and Hank Tenny. Before they had reached the slope leading to the gulch, a yell was heard behind them, and out of a cloud of dust broke De Bray, mounted on a sorrel cayuse, and with a rifle across the saddle in front of him. He was still wearing his “boiled” shirt, collar, red vest, and white trousers, making, all together, a somewhat unusual figure for a foray such as the scout and his pards were then starting upon.
The scout turned in his saddle and looked back; then with a laugh, he remarked:
“It’s a safe bet, pards, we couldn’t lose De Bray.”
“Is he going along with us, in that rig?” queried Wild Bill.
“I presume he didn’t have time to change, Hickok; but he’ll give a good account of himself in any rig.”