“I peen so sorry as plazes,” said he, “dot I vasn’t here meinseluf when Vild Pill vent avay. Meppy he vould haf took me mit him. I peen some fine fellers in a disguise!” “Hyer thet!” whooped the trapper. “Et don’t make no diff’rence how the baron’s got up, the lingo he uses is a dead give-away on him. Wild Bill, I reckon, kin kerry ther game through. I’m hopin’ he runs inter somethin’ lively--an’ thet he passes et eround. Ranchin’ et is purty tame bizness, seems ter me.” The scout and his pards talked until supper time, and after supper they smoked out under the trees and watched and waited for Wild Bill. As the hours passed without bringing him, the scout’s uneasiness increased. Perry and his daughter were in the house. The girl was reading aloud, and her father sat in a near-by chair, listening. It must have been nearly nine o’clock when a beat of hoofs in the trail brought the pards off the bench. “Thar he comes!” declared old Nomad, with intense satisfaction. “Now we’ll know what kind of er b’ar he’s ketched by ther tail.” A call from the scout brought the horseman to a halt some distance away from the house. “That you, Hickok?” asked Buffalo Bill. “Nary, it ain’t, Buffler Bill,” answered a voice. “This hyer’s Sim Pierce ag’in. I’m droppin’ in purty frequent, hey?” “What’s to pay now, Sim?” returned the scout. “Who’s with ye? I got ter know that afore I open up.” Sim Pierce slid down from his horse and moved closer to the group under the shadowy branches of the tree. “Old Nomad, the baron and Little Cayuse are with me, Sim,” replied the scout. “Perry an’ Mrs. Dunbar in the house?” “Yes.” “Waal, ther’s the deuce ter pay, an’ no mistake. Dunbar’s been arrested.” Startled exclamations went up from the pards. “What was he arrested for?” demanded the scout. “For stealing dimings off of a Jew peddler named Abe Isaacs.” “A frame-up!” breathed the trapper; “a frame-up o’ Benner’s!” “What proof is there that Dunbar stole the diamonds?” went on the scout. “He was ketched by the sher’ff with the stones in his saddlebags.” “I feel so madt aboudt dot I vish I couldt fight,” flared the baron. “Tunpar vouldn’t do sooch t’ings, und dot’s all aboudt it. Oof he vas ketched mit der tiamonts, den somepody pud dem in his sattlepags. You hear vat I say!” “Tell us all you know about it, Sim,” said the scout. Sim unbosomed himself, finally getting down to the point that it was the sky pilot who had sent him to the ranch this second time, just as he had done the first. “He wants ye ter hotfoot it ter Hackamore, Buffler Bill,” finished Pierce, “kase if anythin’s done fer Nate ye’re the one thet’s got ter do it. The Hackamore sher’ff’ll pay some attention ter you, which he won’t ter the rest o’ us.” “I’ll git the hosses, Buffler,” tuned up the trapper joyfully, “an’ we’ll hit the breeze to’rds Hackamore.”