“It won’t take long to make the preparations,” returned the rancher. “From the looks of things, I shouldn’t wonder if Nate and Hattie were already making preparations.” A wooden shutter closed over one of the cabin windows, on the side facing the corral. “Those shutters,” went on Perry, “are bullet-proof. Nate rigged them up when we first began having trouble with the barons. I never thought we’d have to use them in helping to keep a mob of lynchers away from Nate.” The scout caught the discouraged note in the rancher’s voice. “There’ll be no lynching,” said he, with a resolute snap of the jaws, “even if there are lynchers coming. Rest assured of that. I have a little authority from the United States Government, and I’ll use it.” “What do those frenzied cowboys care for the government?” returned Perry. “They’re mad for vengeance by now, and it will be useless to try to reason with them.” “We may find a way to bring them to their senses.” “It’s a shame and a disgrace that Bloom is not standing shoulder to shoulder with us,” said Perry bitterly. “He doesn’t care a rap for law and order, if there’s any violence aimed at us out here. In this case he seems to have helped inflame the mob to do its dastardly work.” Cayuse came out of the corral, closed and locked the gate and stepped to Buffalo Bill’s side. The little Piute had his revolver in his hands and, as he walked toward the house at the scout’s side, he was poking cartridges into the cylinder. He was perfectly cool, and his matter-of-fact way in making preparations showed that he could be depended on to do his best. In the house the scout found everything in order. The shutters were closed over the windows, and the interior of the cabin was dark and stuffy. A rifle lay across a table in the living room. Dunbar was laying a supply of cartridges beside it. Not far away his wife was loading a shotgun. The two were working silently. “Mrs. Dunbar,” said Buffalo Bill, admiration mounting in his breast as he saw how bravely the girl was rising to the occasion, “you’re a brick.” “Those scoundrels,” Mrs. Dunbar answered, with flashing eyes, “will not take Nate out of this house if I can do anything to help it.” “They’ll not take him, Mrs. Dunbar,” returned the scout reassuringly. “There are a few of us here to make sure of that. Don’t be alarmed.” “When will we ever get to the end of these troubles?” murmured the girl, with a catch in her voice. “You are almost at the end of them now,” answered the scout, in a kindly voice. “It is always darkest just before dawn, you know.” “The day of hope is a long while breaking for us,” said Mrs. Dunbar. “It will be all the brighter when it finally comes. Let’s go out in front, Perry, and wait there for developments.”