“Not so fast, Nick!” demurred the scout. “I’m the only one that’s going to Hackamore. The rest of you are to stay here with Mrs. Dunbar and Perry. What’s on for to-night is more than any of us know. It’s a cinch, I think, that this pretended robbery in Hackamore is only a part of Lige Benner’s plot. He may try to pull off another part of it here at the ranch, so you fellows have got to stay and keep your eyes skinned. When Wild Bill gets here, tell him where I am.” The scout’s order was received in gloomy silence. All the lively doings seemed to be monopolized by Benner’s ranch and the town of Hackamore, and the peaceful quiet at the Star-A was not at all alluring. Buffalo Bill was not long in getting riding leather on Bear Paw. When he drew up in front of his pards, he leaned from the saddle for a few words of caution. “Don’t tell Hattie and her father anything about this, pards,” said he. “Jordan and I will get Dunbar out of the scrape, and there’s no use pestering Perry and the girl with the details. Dunbar can tell them all about it when we bring him back. And don’t fail to stay here on guard. Lige Benner isn’t above sending some of his cowboys here to raise a ruction. If they come, you take care of them.” The scout straightened in his saddle and gathered up his reins. “All right, Sim,” said he. The spurs clinked and the two horses leaped forward into the shadows that overhung the trail. “Orders is orders,” growled old Nomad, “but I shore wisht I was goin’ erlong with Buffler, er else over ter pay a visit at the Circle-B.” CHAPTER XIX. AT ODDS WITH THE SHERIFF. It was midnight when Buffalo Bill turned his horse over to Sim Pierce to be taken to the corral, and stepped into the office of the Delmonico Hotel. There were but three men in the office--Jordan, Isaacs and the clerk. The moment the scout entered the room a load of anxiety seemed to drop from the sky pilot’s shoulders. He started toward the scout with outstretched hand. “I’m more than glad to see you, Buffalo Bill!” he exclaimed. “Our friend Nate is the victim of some dastardly plot, and circumstantial evidence is all against him.” “Let’s go to the jail and see him, Jordan,” said the scout. “The sheriff won’t allow any one to see him.” “I reckon he’ll let me.” “He says he won’t let a soul into the jail to-night. But here’s some one else you can talk with--Abraham Isaacs, the man from whom the diamonds were taken.” The scout whirled on Isaacs. Under his searching eyes, the Jew lowered his face. The two hands that held his battered satchel on his knees trembled perceptibly. In three strides the scout was at the Jew’s side. “Your name is Abraham Isaacs, is it?” he demanded sharply. “Yah, so,” the Jew answered, keeping his eyes averted. “You say young Dunbar stole some diamonds from you?” “I say dot I lose some tiamonts. Dey was foundt on Dunbar. Vat you t’ink?”