“Waal, he kin lay down an’ roll over with me on his back,” averred the Laramie man gravely, “an’ without never hurtin’ me none.” “I got money as says he kain’t,” growled Ace Hawkins. “I don’t want yer money,” said Wild Bill, “but I’ll show ye.” He pulled up the picket pin--there was no time to get saddle and bridle on Beeswax--and made a hackamore of the picket rope. “Stop that man!” came a voice from near the foot of the hill. Wild Bill understood the words, and they certified to Lige Benner’s hostile intentions toward him. But the shouted order was not so clearly understood by Red Steve and his men. “Who was that a-yellin’?” demanded Red Steve. “Sounded like Lige’s voice,” answered Shorty Dobbs. “Now, ye watch!” bellowed Wild Bill, at the top of his voice, hoping to drown out any more noise Lige Benner might make. As he spoke, he jumped to the back of the horse. If he could get away with the hackamore, and minus his riding gear, Wild Bill was going to be entirely satisfied. Kicking his heels into Beeswax’s ribs, he started through the timber in the direction of the trail to the Star-A. “Hyer!” roared the voice of Shorty Dobbs; “make ’im lay down an’ roll over!” “Got ter git ter clear ground afore I kin do that,” shouted Wild Bill, turning in his saddle. “Trail erlong, amigos!” Red Steve and his four White Caps might have started after Wild Bill, still in the hope that he would make Beeswax “lie down and roll over” had not Lige Benner, at that moment, come tearing in among them. “He’s a spy!” bawled Benner; “Gringo Pete is a spy! He’s trying to get away!” The last word died in a fusillade of revolvers. Red Steve, his four men and Lige Benner had each drawn a six-shooter and sent their leaden respects after Wild Bill. The Laramie man felt that he was safe. What horse was there at the Circle-B that could overhaul old Beeswax? In that supreme moment, gloating over what he had accomplished, the Laramie man must needs turn, shake his fist and taunt those behind on their poor marksmanship. “Yah! You men couldn’t hit the side of a barn! By-by!” While Wild Bill was looking behind, something mighty important was happening in front. As he turned around to keep Beeswax in the right course, the Laramie man was made unpleasantly aware of the change in the situation. Four of the Circle-B cowboys were riding in from the range. These four were directly in front of Wild Bill, and not more than twenty feet distant. They had heard Wild Bill’s shout, and their attention had already been attracted by the discharge of revolvers. When the whoops and yells of Lige Benner, Red Steve and the rest reached their ears, they spread out and prepared to blockade the racing fugitive. “Keep clear!” shouted Wild Bill. He made a fierce attempt to get at his revolvers. They were under his ragged disguise, and he had been under the impression that they were placed where they could be conveniently drawn.