“No; he gnawed the thongs from his wrist, secured his saddle and horse, and, though we gave hot chase, managed to escape.” “Boys, thar’ll be music in ther air afore long in Border City, fer every man, woman, an’ kid heur hes been giving Kent King ther devil, as wuss nor a horse thief. He’ll come back fer a reckoning, or I are a screechin’ liar, and I bet a lariat agin’ a horse on it.” “On which, Negoshy, that you are a liar, or thet King comes back?” asked one of the crowd. “I’ll bet both, or t’other way, jist fer ther negotiate, pard, ef it suits yer; but, by ther Rockies, Buffalo Bill better look out, now thet wolf are on his trail.” “You refer to the scout who was instrumental in his capture?” asked the Texan. “Come ag’in, pard, fer I isn’t great on book larnin’.” “Buffalo Bill was the one who run him to cover, I mean?” “Yer has it; he are, an’ thet Kent King will kill him yet.” “I fear you is right,” answered another. “Buffalo Bill hes got ter look sharp. I’ll bet high the gambler kills him.” “I’ll take the bet.” The clear voice caused all to start and turn. The subject of the conversation was before them. “Buffalo Bill! Three cheers!” cried a voice; and a ringing salute was given him as he forced his way to the table and asked quietly: “Who is betting against my life?” “Put it thar, pard; now I’ll tell yer,” cried Old Negotiate. After grasping the hand of the scout, he continued: “These Texans an’ myself were havin’ a leetle chin music, an’ I l’arns from one thet Kent King escaped----” “Ah! This is Mr. Tabor, I believe; an’ Seven-foot Harry,” and recognizing the different men around the table, Buffalo Bill greeted them warmly and asked: “Has Kent King really escaped?” “Yes, as I have just told these gentlemen, he escaped from us near Santa Fe.” “An’ he’ll raise a breeze here when he comes back, an’ we was bettin’ thet he’d kill you, Bill,” said Negotiate. “And I take the bet; who will wager, and what sum?” said the scout. “I’ll take your bet, sir,” and a heavily bearded, stout-formed man stepped forward. “You are a stranger to me, sir, and will have to plank down your dust, unless some one here knows you,” said Buffalo Bill, eying the man closely. “I am a stranger in Border City, but I have the money to deposit, and as I know Kent King well, I’ll bet on his killing you if you have wronged him,” replied the stranger. “Wronged him! Why, who could wrong a wolf? If he is your friend, I will say that you keep low company; but what will you bet that he kills me?” The man seemed angered for an instant by the outspoken words of the scout, but answered quietly: “Say a thousand dollars.” “Done! It’s the amount you name, and I’ll seek a stakeholder!” “I’ll get one,” the man answered. “Hold on, pard; as you are a friend of Kent King, I am a little doubtful about your stakeholder.” “Sir, do you dare say mine came differently?” The man turned fiercely upon Buffalo Bill, who answered: