While the scout and the outlaws stared at the wolfish crew, taking note at the same time that each member was armed with rifle and tomahawk, the leader cried out in good English: “Surrender or we fire.” The king of scouts looked down at Flag-pole Jack and Shorty Sands. The outlaws now saw him for the first time, for, upon turning to gaze up at the fantastic crew, he had withdrawn his head from in front of the bowlder. “Buffalo Bill!” gasped Shorty Sands. “We’re in for it now.” As he spoke, he believed that the disguised Indians were allies of the famous border fighter. “Don’t make a mistake, Shorty,” said the scout coolly. “We are in the same boat.” Then he added: “Go up, you two, and do the surrender act. I’ll follow suit.” “I’ll be hanged if I give in,” snarled Flag-pole Jack. “Hyer goes.” He jumped down the bank, but a rifle bullet grazed his head before his feet struck the ground. “That’s a reminder,” yelled the leader of the Wolves sternly. “The next shot will be to kill.” The outlaw, with many curses, returned to the trail. As he was on the way, the Wolves marched down the hill. Buffalo Bill was not foolhardy enough to try to make a stand against two dozen armed enemies. He stood up, rifle grounded, and smiled when the leader of the Wolves approached. “Fine morning for ducks,” the scout remarked, as he tried to read the expression of the eyes that looked out of the holes in the mask. “And for lulus. You’re one, Cody, all right.” Buffalo Bill started. The leader of this fantastic band was a white man. “I failed to catch your name,” he said politely, as he craned his head in the direction of the stranger. The Wolf laughed. “The wind must have blown it away, I reckon,” he replied shortly. Then he added brusquely: “Give up your arms to my adjutant here, and place yourself in his hands.” So saying, he marched down to the trail. Standing before the two outlaws, he looked them over from head to foot. “Pards of Black-face Ned, eh?” he said coldly. No answer. “Drop your guns!” The weapons struck the ground instanter. “Now go up the hill and submit to be bound. No monkey business, or Ned will be mourning your departure for a warmer clime than Arizona.” With black brows, Sands and his companion obeyed the order. Soon the three prisoners were conducted to the retreat of the Wolves. It was at the head of a ravine about five miles south of the cañon trail, and Buffalo Bill was surprised when he reached the spot. It was forty feet above the bed of the ravine, and was nothing less than one of the old habitations of the extinct cliff dwellers. The wall into which the habitation had been cut was of irregular formation, and nearly perpendicular. There seemed no way of reaching the holes either from the top or the base of the ridge. But there was a way to get up, and this passage was soon revealed.