“Gents,” said Sim Pierce, flourishing one of his long arms, “this here’s the Reverend Ben Jordan. He’s a gospel sharp, but it ain’t struck in enough so’t it hurts. He’s one o’ the boys, Ben Jordan is. He’s done more ter chase the devil off this range than ary other man in Texas.” The Reverend Ben Jordan laughed. It was a whole-souled, hearty laugh that made Nomad and Wild Bill his friends right from the jump. “There’s a good deal of the devil still left on the range, Sim,” said the sky pilot, “in spite of my efforts. These gentlemen are Wild Bill and old Nomad, I believe you said, pards of Buffalo Bill’s?” “Kerect,” answered Pierce. Jordan grabbed Wild Bill’s hand, and then Nomad’s. “I’m mighty glad to meet up with you,” said the sky pilot. “I’m an admirer of Buffalo Bill’s--an unknown admirer--and to meet his compadres is a pleasure I shall long remember. Sim says you gentlemen are also friends of Dick Perry’s. I’m glad of that, too. Perry, just now, needs all his friends. If----” At that moment, Lige Benner and Hank Phelps came hurrying around the end of the hotel. “There he is!” cried Benner, pointing to Wild Bill. “Make him give up!” called Phelps. Old Nomad edged around to Wild Bill’s side, and the pards presented a solid front. Benner and Phelps slackened pace. They were not in so much of a hurry as they had been, but they still had something on their minds--something that wasn’t pleasant. CHAPTER IV. THE SKY PILOT TAKES A HAND. “Did you say something?” asked Wild Bill, looking the cattle barons over with a grin which he made as irritating as possible. “You were seen to pick up somethin’ in the road,” said Benner angrily, “somethin’ that came out of my watch. I want it.” “Oh, you do. You’ll have to go into details a little more if you expect me to identify what you’ve lost. Was there anything but the works that came out of that watch?” “You know mighty well there was!” scowled Benner. “I know mighty well that you’ve got to tell me what you lost before I can tell you whether or not I know anything about it.” “That is very reasonable, Mr. Benner,” put in the sky pilot. “It is necessary for----” “Dry up!” interrupted Phelps roughly. “You ain’t got a thing to do with this, Jordan, so you keep out.” “What have you got to do with it, Mr. Phelps?” queried the sky pilot pleasantly. “I thought it was Mr. Benner who had lost something.” “Oh, I’ve got plenty to do with it!” snorted Phelps, giving his head a flirt that set all the dangling brim ornaments to clattering. “I sent him what he lost.” Wild Bill was exceedingly glad to hear this, although he made no sign, to that effect. “We’ve used our bazoos a-plenty,” growled Benner. “Are you going to give me that?” he demanded. “I’ll give you a piece of my mind, in a minute, if you don’t tell me what you want, and what you think I’ve got,” said Wild Bill, between his teeth.