“The durned skunks hev got every reason ter be grateful to us,” said one old man, “but there ain’t an ounce of gratitude in their natoors. We give ’em lands and huntin’ grounds, and don’t trouble ’em anyways; but whenever they see a chance they want to scalp us and lift our cattle.” “I don’t think all Indians are vermin,” said Buffalo Bill. “I have met some pretty good ones. And I don’t think they are all ungrateful, either, for I’ve known some, at least, who were as grateful as any white man could be.” CHAPTER III. AN IMPENDING ATTACK. The afternoon wore away, but no bands of hostile Indians appeared in sight. Buffalo Bill and Wild Bill headed scouting parties, and rode some five miles from the fort, but they saw no signs which led them to suppose that an attack was imminent. The party of soldiers who had chased Wild Bill’s pursuers returned to the fort during the course of the afternoon, and reported that they had followed the Indians about ten miles without coming up to them. Then they saw another party of Indians, at least five hundred strong, riding across the prairie to join the fugitives, so the lieutenant in command wisely gave the order to turn the horses’ heads back toward the fort. The Indians did not chase them. More settlers came in during the afternoon, and they lighted fires in the courtyard of the fort, and prepared to cook their dinner, for there was no proper accommodation for them. As their bear steaks and deer meat frizzled and sizzled on the fire, they told one another queer yarns of Western life, for they were all men who had seen the rough and humorous side of the frontier. “We’ll come out of this yer business all right,” observed one of the men. “I’ve come through worse gol-durned contraptions than this, by a long sight.” “Yes, it’s an old saying out in my country,” said a hunter from Arizona, “that if you let things alone long enough they will even up of themselves. “Take, for instance, the case of Jack Cade. There were two brothers of them--Jack and Bill--and one day a crowd got after Bill for horse stealing, and caught and strung him up. He protested his innocence, but it was no go. We found out a month later, however, that we had actually hung the wrong man and let the real thief get out of the country.” “And did things even up later on?” he was asked. “They did. We couldn’t restore Bill to life, and beg his pardon, and elect him alderman of the town, but when we caught his brother Jack, after he had robbed a settler of his outfit, we not only let him off the hanging, but made him sheriff and squared things in proper shape. “Things don’t always even up for the man who’s been planted, but if he leaves any relatives behind, the public will see to it that his loss turns out to be their gain.”