The horse was picketed, and the saddle, bridle and blanket were hanging from the limb of a nearby tree. “Purty good hoss, that,” remarked Wild Bill. Four pairs of eyes turned on him suspiciously. “Who the blazes aire you?” asked one of the quartette. “He’s got a clean bill, pards,” spoke up Red Steve. “I know his looks is ag’in him, but he’s all right in spite o’ his looks. He suits Jerry an’ Lige, so he’s got ter suit us. He’s ter be one o’ the White Caps. Gringo Pete, that feller’s Shorty Dobbs; the one behind him is Ace Hawkins; the one back o’ Ace is Splinters Gibson; an’ t’other ’un is Weasel Skinner. We all got ter be friends, fellers. Don’t act measly to’rds yer new pard.” The four ruffians tried hard to show their friendship. “Ye got er blame’ good hoss,” remarked Shorty Dobbs, with an up-and-down look over Wild Bill and a more or less admiring glance in the direction of Beeswax. “He’s second ter but one hoss on the Brazos,” declared Wild Bill proudly, “an’ that one hoss is Buffler Bill’s Bear Paw.” “I know this hoss,” said Weasel Skinner. “The last time I seed this hoss, Wild Bill Hickok was a-ridin’ him.” The Laramie man chuckled. “The hoss belonged ter Wild Bill afore I took him,” said he. “That ole Laramie fossil won’t never see Beeswax no more. The animile is mine, now.” “Hickok’ll git his hoss back if he has ter take yer h’ar ter do it,” asserted Splinters Gibson. “No feller o’ Hickok’s size’ll ever git my skelp,” bragged Wild Bill, taking a tremendous pleasure in this turn of the talk. “I kin show Hickok the way I wear my back h’ar any day ye kin find in the almanac.” “Ye got gas enough fer a b’loon ascension,” grunted Ace Hawkins, “an’ mebby that’s all thar is to ye.” “Mebby,” agreed Wild Bill, “an’ mebby ye ain’t got as much sense as what the law allows.” “I got sand if I ain’t got sense,” flared Ace Hawkins, “an’ if ye say the word, I’ll knock yer spine up through the top o’ yer head till it sticks out like a flagpole. I----” “Hush!” cried Red Steve. “Consarn it, kain’t ye ack like gents an’ pards? Don’t ye try h’istin’ any flagpoles like that, Ace, er ye’ll hear from me right quick. This here’s our new pard, an’ here ye go treatin’ him like a hired man. Us fellers has got ter all hang tergether.” “Er we’ll hang another way if we don’t,” spoke up Shorty Dobbs with a shake of his bullet-like head. Out of the tails of his eyes, Wild Bill had caught a look at the top of the hill through the trees. He saw Lige Benner running through the door of the adobe house, and Jerry Benner standing in the doorway and watching him. Something was wrong. Wild Bill didn’t know what it was but thought he’d take time by the forelock and get clear. “That Beeswax hoss is shore the slickest animile fer tricks ye ever seen,” said Wild Bill. He was in a hurry, but it would never have done to let Red Steve and his men see it. “What tricks kin he do?” asked Splinters Gibson.