The cowboys appeared undecided. At this moment two other actors appeared on the scene. They came from somewhere within the house and stepped hastily through the door. One of them was Bloom, the sheriff. The other was the doctor. “Ah!” came from Bloom. “So the chivalrous Mr. Cody has paid us a visit, has he? In his usual manner he has begun to make things lively. Go ’way, you men,” and Bloom turned and waved the cowboys off. “I reckon Phelps and I can look after this Cody person.” The cowboys retreated to a distance. The scout released Phelps, but kept his revolver. “Tut, tut!” cried the doctor. “This here ain’t accordin’ to Hoyle. We’re gents all, so why the nation should we act like a pack of rowdies? Hank Phelps, you ca’m down. I got the highest respect for Buffalo Bill, an’ I know he ain’t here for no wrong purpose. Bloom, don’t be unmannerly. Confound it, can’t you two give Buffalo Bill a chance to tell what he’s come here for?” Here was an unexpected aide in the person of the doctor. The scout felt that he was indeed fortunate to find the doctor at the house. “I’m not lookin’ at Buffalo Bill with the same eye as you, doc,” grunted Bloom. “Him an’ me don’t hitch.” “That is regrettable,” said the doctor. “When people can’t hitch, Bloom, it’s best to let each other alone.” “Why don’t Cody let me alone?” babbled Phelps. “What does he come crowhopping around here for?” “That’s his nature,” sneered Bloom. “He makes it a point to blow in where he ain’t wanted.” “If you’ll go in the house with me,” said the scout, “I’ll tell you what I want in a few minutes.” “Invite him in, Hank,” suggested Bloom, “but walk behind him.” “Oh, you fellers do make me all-fired tired,” grunted the doctor. “Come in, Buffalo Bill. I’m gladder’n blazes that I happen to be here.” The doctor returned into the house. Buffalo Bill followed him, and the two others followed Buffalo Bill. Once inside, the scout was not asked to be seated. “First, doctor,” said the scout, “I’d like to know how Jake Phelps is coming along?” The doctor shook his head forebodingly. “He got a rap on the head that was some fierce,” said he, “but it don’t seem to be a fracture. Yet, if it ain’t a fracture, why don’t he corral his wits, open his eyes and talk? He ain’t said a word since he was found in the trail. I’ve done my best to bring him around, because I know two words from Jake would do a hull lot o’ good. He could tell us, right off the bat, who it was knocked him out; then, without any guessin’, the law could get in its work. Personally, I don’t stand for any such foolishness as went on at the Star-A ranch last night. I’m a law and order man, I am, and such doin’s look too much like anarchy to suit me.” “What are Jake’s chances, doctor?” “Mebby slim, mebby good. I’m puzzled to beat four of a kind. A few hours more ought to tell the story, though, one way or the other.” “He was hit with a club?” “I wouldn’t say that.” “Or the butt of a revolver?”