He and Mr. Baxter turned the bunch of cattle over to the Russell, Majors & Waddell’s foreman at the fort, where another bull train was being made up, loaded high with government supplies for the west. Buck Bomer, Billy Cody’s wagon-master, had not come in yet from the Laramie trip, and there was no news from Billy himself. He was still out. Report said that he had gone on from Laramie to another fort, so nobody could tell when he would be back. From the post Davy and Mr. Baxter rode on down to Leavenworth City. Leavenworth never had seemed so busy. New buildings had gone up, the streets were crowded with people and teams, and the levee was lined with steamboats bound north and south. But the people all were bound west. They had gathered from every quarter of the States. The twang of the Yankee, the drawl of the backwoodsman, and soft slur of the Southerner mingled in a regular hubbub. Mr. Majors was in his office; Mr. Russell was out somewhere on the trail; Mr. Waddell was down home at Lexington, Missouri, visiting his family. And who should be sitting in a chair in the office but Wild Bill Hickok――as handsome and as gentlemanly as ever. “Hello, there,” hailed Wild Bill. “How goes it?” Mr. Baxter nodded cheerily at him. “Fine,” answered Davy, feeling rather awkward in his worn-out old clothes and his long hair, but not ashamed of what he had been doing. “I hear you’re making good, boy,” asserted Wild Bill. “I reckon you can hold your own as well as Billy.” “He certainly can,” claimed Mr. Baxter. “He’s the hero of the camp.” “Bassett sent you in, did he?” queried Mr. Majors. “How are things at the camp?” “Same as usual, Mr. Majors,” answered Mr. Baxter. “Davy’s a hero now, I suppose you’ve heard.” Mr. Majors nodded with his long beard. “So they say,” he replied simply. “Well, we’re reducing our force out in the cattle camps now, so you two needn’t go back this fall. The cashier’ll pay you off. And――Dick,” he continued to the cashier, “give Davy an order for a suit of clothes with the company’s compliments. Make it clothes, shoes and hat complete.” Davy blushed hotly, and didn’t know quite what to do. That the word of his adventure with the Indians had reached the office so quickly was very embarrassing. But he was glad to get some clothes, and Mr. Majors had spoken in earnest, so it would have been bad taste in him to make much ado about what he had or hadn’t done. Mr. Majors wasn’t a man to say what he didn’t mean, or to offer more than anybody deserved. So Davy stammered “Thank you, Mr. Majors,” and, clapped heartily on the back by Mr. Baxter, went forward to the cashier. “Here you are,” said the cashier, shoving out the money and the order. “What’s the news out yonder? Anybody booming Cherry Creek?” “Yes. A bunch of men who claimed they were from there passed us coming in,” answered Mr. Baxter. “They had a big story about plenty of gold, but we noticed they didn’t show any!”