“Lige is a good deal of a coward. Any man who favors snake-in-the-grass methods in preference to a stand in the open, is a coward--and a knave, as well.” The scout got up from his chair. “I’m going over to the hammock, Perry,” said he, “and take a siesta.” “When will Wild Bill be back?” asked Perry, as the scout moved off. “Some time to-night.” “And the baron, Nomad and Cayuse?” “I’m not expecting them until they get here.” The scout reached the canvas hammock, swung under a tree near the place where he and Wild Bill had had their talk earlier in the day, and stretched himself out comfortably. The Laramie man was a great deal in his mind. How was he making it at the Circle-B ranch? Somehow, what Perry had had to say about Jerry Benner had increased the scout’s worry on Wild Bill’s account. If Jerry was so much sharper than his brother, it might be that Wild Bill would stand in a good deal of danger from him. The scout’s worries did not bother him long. Lulled by the peaceful quiet of his surroundings, he fell asleep. Several hours later he was awakened by some one moving round the hammock. He opened his eyes to find old Nomad, the baron and Little Cayuse clustered about him. “Buenos, pards!” laughed the scout, sitting up in the hammock. “I thought you were going to stay all night at Dinkelmann’s?” “Dere don’d vas anypody ad home,” answered the baron, “neider Fritz nor Katrina. Ve hang aroundt a vile, und den ve come pack.” “Nothin’ doin’,” rumbled the old trapper. “Waugh! I never see sich er quiet time. I ain’t reached a p’int yit whar I like ter fool erway my time hossback ridin’. Thet’s all thet happened on this ride ter the Dutchman’s. I was er hopin’ some o’ them measley cowpunchers would try ter ride circles around us, jest ter give us a chanst ter cop out a leetle excitement. But nary nothin’ happened. Whar’s Wild Bill?” Gathering his pards closely around him, the scout told of the warning of impending trouble that had been sent to the ranch by the sky pilot. Old Nomad began to mutter wrathfully. “Shore, oh, shore,” he snorted, “somethin’ ’u’d sartingly git started ther minit I pulled out. An’ Wild Bill’s gone ter put ther leetle Hickok kybosh on ther rantankerous doin’s, hey? Whyever did you stay behind, pard?” The scout explained that Wild Bill had gone to the Circle-B ranch in disguise, and that he hoped to find out what the trouble was to be, in case the sky pilot had not been wrongly informed. “Sufferin’ catermounts!” mourned the old trapper. “An’ all this hyer happens while I’m chasin’ up Dutchmen with ther baron. Cayuse, ain’t ye plumb mad at yerself fer bein’ sidetracked when thar was somethin’ excitin’ goin’ on?” Little Cayuse had never very much to say on any subject. He merely grunted in answer to the trapper’s query. The baron looked very much distressed.