The hotel piazza was filled with “prominent citizens,” as a sort of welcoming committee backing the efforts of the marshal, while people of lesser importance filled the street on each side of the hotel and backed against the opposite buildings in a curious wave. Buffalo Bill’s arrival in the town had been hourly expected, and had been watched for from the “lookout” station on the hotel roof. As soon as his coming was announced the news was sent flying throughout the community. Woods stepped down from the piazza, extending to Buffalo Bill his thin, wiry hand. “It seems like you’ve been a long time coming, Cody,” he said, “but we’re glad to see you.” He flung commands at some Mexicans grouped near. “Pedro, Sebastian—you fellers git a move on, and take the hosses—what ye staring at? Yes, them’s Injuns with the gentlemen! Didn’t ye never see any before? Well, you’ll have time to git acquainted later. Take the hosses and hustle ’em to the stables.” The Mexicans flew to obey. The citizens on the piazza swarmed down behind the marshal, and the next moment Buffalo Bill and his pards were being given a characteristic greeting of the border. “Any word about the child?” the great scout asked of Woods, almost before the greetings were finished. “Not a thing,” said Woods. “We’re reckoning that Injuns took him; that’s what we got, from the little of the trail we could follow; though why they would do it, or what they would want with the boy, puzzled us, until——” He stopped to present another “prominent citizen,” who had just arrived in breathless haste and desired an introduction. Leaving Wild Bill and old Nomad to converse with the group on and about the piazza, Buffalo Bill accompanied Woods into the hotel, as soon as he could do it without offense to the assembled people. “I’ve sent for the kid’s father and mother,” said Woods, “and they’ll be here in a little while, I reckon. It’s a curious case.” “From the report I received, it is. You were about to say something a while ago, but stopped to introduce that gentleman?” “Oh, yes; I was sayin’, I believe, that the whole thing tangled us all up. But I heard somethin’ this mornin’ which, maybe, is a clew. And, by the way, I just now arrested and jailed the feller that give it to me. Mebbe you know him? It’s Tom Conover, old Toltec Tom, some call him, and——” “Shot a woman?” “Well, it was by clear accident, so he says.” “Is she much hurt?” was the scout’s interested query. “I’m hopin’ not, but we ain’t goin’ to be too rough on any white man for a thing like that, especially if ’twas an accident.” Buffalo Bill settled back in the chair he had taken. He and Woods were in the hotel office; but the clerk had gone out on the piazza, and was listening there to the talk of old Nick Nomad and Wild Bill. The trapper’s heavy voice, uttering characteristic exclamations, floated in at the window, accompanied by the comments of some of the citizens.