“Has it come to this,” he cried, “that these scoundrels must make war on women?” His tortured soul found vent in language that shocked the minister’s ears. “Peace, friend,” said Jordan. “You have much to be thankful for. You are not yourself. Try to be composed.” “How did you fall into the hands of Phelps?” asked the scout, more to get the rancher’s mind to running in another channel than anything else. “I went looking for Nate,” was the answer, “and some of Phelps’ men roped me in the timber. The noose dropped before I could avoid it, and I was jerked from the back of my horse. They took me to the H-P ranch yesterday noon, and Phelps went to Hackamore to see Benner, report, and get him to send after me. Benner rode over this morning with an escort of cowboys. The plan was to take me to Benner’s ranch, but Phelps and Benner got to drinking and, before we started, Buffalo Bill came.” Perry turned on the scout, his eyes wide with wonder. “Buffalo Bill,” said he, “if any one had told me that it was possible for a man to do what you did at Phelps’ this morning I would not have believed it. In all my life I never saw such a nervy piece of work.” Old Nomad began to chuckle. “It won’t be long, amigos,” he remarked, “afore these hyar cattle barons o’ ther Brazos’ll begin ter git acquainted with Buffler Bill. None o’ Buffler’s pards stack up ter his level, but, ef I do say et, I reckon we reach purty middlin’ high.” “What did you do, pard?” asked Wild Bill. “I corrected the mistake which the clerk at the hotel made last evening,” laughed the scout. “Meaning which?” “Why, I gave Benner the handcuffs.” “With his revolver,” put in Perry, “he forced the two cattle barons to stand back to back, and then he handcuffed their wrists together. He finished the work by putting the noose of a riata around their feet. And that’s the way we left them!” “I came away,” added Buffalo Bill, “and forgot to leave the key to the bracelets, so----” Old Nomad was a minute or two grasping the situation the scout had caused in Phelps’ cabin. Just at this point it broke over him, and he leaned against Hide-rack and bellowed with mirth. “Say,” he sputtered, “this hyar reminds me some o’ ther way Buffler went inter the Sioux kentry an’ took ole Lightnin’-thet-strikes right out from ther middle o’ his band. Waugh! Er-waugh! An’ our pard left them fellers back ter back, handcuffed ter each other, an’ with their men thicker eround ’em than what fleas is in ole Siskiyou county! I’d like ter lay off fer a hull day an’ enjoy thinkin’ erbout thet. I would so!” “That was just my kind of a play,” commented Wild Bill regretfully. “Wish I could have been in on it myself.” “Let me know, Buffalo Bill,” requested Perry, “how you knew I was at the H-P ranch? Phelps was trying to keep that quiet.” The scout explained in a few words.