The scout halted abruptly. Through the timber behind him and the Laramie man came a rider at speed, his horse lathered and blowing. The man in the saddle was long and lean; his thin, hatchet-like face was full of excitement. As he threw himself from his horse, the animal staggered drunkenly with feet wide apart. “Suffering horn toads!” exclaimed the Laramie man, passing his gaze from the nearly spent horse to the excited newcomer. “From the looks of your horse, neighbor, I reckon you only hit an occasional high place for a good distance back.” “We flew,” grinned the man, “but we had ter. Ain’t forgot me, have ye?” He looked at Wild Bill ingratiatingly. “Dot and carry one!” cried Wild Bill, recognizing the newcomer suddenly. “Can this be Sim Pierce, the gent I came company front with in Hackamore? Sim Pierce, scion of the Pierces of San Antone?” “Aw’ shucks!” said Sim Pierce deprecatingly, drawing a bar of chewing from his hip pocket, and loading himself with one corner of it. Returning the tobacco to his pocket, he dropped down on the bench on which the pards were sitting, chewed wide and reflectively for a few moments, and hooked up one knee between his hands. “Sim,” remarked Wild Bill, after the silence had begun to grow embarrassing, “did you ride your caballo into a quiver just to come here and show Buffalo Bill and me how you handle a plug of Cowboy’s Pride?” “Waal, not so you kin notice,” answered Sim. “I was glad I seen ye out hyer by yerselves. It gives me a chanst ter onbosom myself without lettin’ the Perrys savvy.” “Perrys! Only one Perry and two Dunbars live in that house now.” “Which I stand kerrected. Buffler Bill an’ pards have shore done a heap fer the Perrys an’ Nate Dunbar. Gosh-all-whittaker! Say, I’d have given my boots ter see a weddin’ in the saddle, hosses slashin’ erlong like all-possessed, sky pilot pufformin’ like he never done afore! Say, I’ll bet that was some fine as a spectacle.” “Some, and that’s a fact, Sim,” said Wild Bill. “But you’re not telling why you raced up here like a scared coyote looking for home and mother. Does it pain you any to get down to cases?” “Hyer’s where I git at it,” answered Sim. “That sky pilot, Jordan, the feller as done the knot tyin’ while the hosses was at a run, sent me hyer. He had a message fer Buffler Bill an’ pards.” “Ah,” spoke up the scout. “What was the message?” “‘Tell Buffler Bill,’ says the sky pilot, ‘not ter leave the Star-A ranch fer a spell yit. Tell him,’ he says further, ‘that ther trouble ain’t over fer ther Perrys.’ Things is hatchin’ right this minit, he allows, over ter Lige Benner’s. Lige ain’t feelin’ none too good over the way he got done up, an’ he’s plannin’ ter cut loose with some other kind of er rough house.” “How did Jordan discover that?” queried Buffalo Bill.