It struck Dave as rather of a shame to pepper the buffalo from the windows of a moving train――which, he heard, sometimes did not even stop to make use of the meat, but left the carcasses lying for the wolves. Dusk soon settled, so that there was little more shooting. With a stop for water and supper, on through the darkness rumbled the train. The passengers slept in their seats――an uncomfortable way, but they did not mind. Judging from the looks of Forts Harker and Hays, which were merely log cabins with sod roofs, the cars were the best place. The talk among the passengers was mainly of buffalo and of the Indians (who had been fighting the advance of the railroad through their hunting-grounds), and of the match between Buffalo Bill Cody and Scout Will Comstock. As for Will Comstock, the people said that he was a young fellow with the figure of a mere boy and the face of a girl――but that no braver scout ever rode the plains. However, Billy Cody seemed to have the majority. He had been making a great record since the war. He had driven stage for a little while on the Overland Trail; then he had married; and soon he was scouting again for the army on the Smoky Hill Trail. He had guided General Custer on a dangerous trip out of Fort Harker, and had been guide and dispatch bearer out of Fort Hays, and nobody except Wild Bill (who was a scout on this line, too) was thought to be quite his equal. Almost as famous as Buffalo Bill were his buffalo horse, Brigham, and his rifle, Lucretia; against these three Billy Comstock, good as he was, did not stand much show. It was a jolly excursion crowd this: soldiers and civilians, city people and country people, residents and tourists, men, women and some children, all packed tight and bent on seeing the “big match” advertised to take place between Buffalo Bill Cody and Will Comstock, the other famous scout. Early in the morning the tracks ended about twenty miles this side of Sheridan. And here, on the open prairie, were gathered an astonishing amount of vehicles, animals and horsemen. The spot looked like a land opening――or a picnic. Davy recognized Billy Cody at once. With a group of army officers, scouts in buckskin, and other horsemen, Billy was sitting on his horse at the edge of the mass of carriages. The train-load of excursionists fairly burst from the cars, even climbing out through the windows, and made a rush for the vehicles. Davy forged ahead for Billy Cody. Billy had left his horse and when Davy saw him next he was gallantly escorting his wife and little daughter to an army ambulance; as he came back Dave caught him. “Hello, Billy.” “By thunder! That name sounds familiar, Dave! Well, I’m certainly glad to see you.”