“You fellers ’u’d play hob puttin’ a kink in this game o’ the cattle barons,” he taunted. “The’s half a dozen of ’em an’ two or three hunnerd cowboys. Oh, yes, ye’ll play hob stoppin’ ’em!” A look of fierce helplessness crossed Nate Dunbar’s face. “If we can’t stop the lawless work,” he cried desperately, “there are still bushes at the trailside where a man can lurk and pick off some of the demons who’re causing this trouble.” “That’s not the talk for a brave young chap like you to put up, Dunbar,” said the scout sternly. “We’ll see what we can do to end this rough situation by more honorable methods.” “Who are you?” demanded Dunbar, facing the scout squarely. “Buffalo Bill is what I’m usually called,” was the reply. The words caused a sensation. Dunbar jumped, and stared; Red Steve also jumped, but in the direction of the ladder. “Catch that man!” called the scout. “I’ve got a horse outside, and I don’t want him to get away with it.” Dunbar caught Red Steve and jerked him roughly from the ladder. The spirit seemed to have been all taken out of Steve. His greatest desire now, it seemed, was to keep as great a distance between him and the scout as he could. Pushing against the earthen shelf on the farther side of the room, he watched the scout with weasel-like eyes. “Where were you going in such a hurry, Red Steve?” demanded the scout. “I don’t want no truck with you, that’s all,” answered the red-haired Texan. “I don’t want nothin’ ter do with ye, an’ that’s flat.” “Then you were merely trying to cut loose from my society?” “I wanted ter git out, an’ I want ter git out now. Why the blazes didn’t ye say ye was Buffler Bill afore? If ye had, I’d ’a’ got out a heap quicker. D’you hold any spite fer me drorin’ the gun on ye?” “Not a particle, Red Steve,” laughed the scout. “You were trying to run away from here and strike a bee line for the Brazos. You were planning to tell the cattle barons that Buffalo Bill had shown up in this section and was going to help Nate Dunbar and Dick Perry regain their rancher’s rights.” “How--how’d you know that?” “I’m a good hand at guessing. I’ve no objection to your carrying that message, Red Steve, but I’ve a horse somewhere outside, and I didn’t want you to run off with him. As soon as Dunbar and I leave the dugout, you’ll be free to hike for the Brazos. Tell Benner and the rest of the cattle barons that Buffalo Bill, as usual, is taking the part of the under dog, that he’s going to extend a helping hand to Nate Dunbar and the Perrys, and that he and his pards will stay in this section long enough to make peace on the Brazos and to shake a foot at the wedding of Nate Dunbar and Miss Perry. All this you’re to tell Benner, Steve, and make it plain to him that it comes from me straight. I didn’t come loping in here to stir up trouble, but now that I’ve found it stirred up, I’m going to put a shoulder to the wheel and settle it.” The scout turned to Dunbar.