Captain Corduroy looked out and cried: “Buffalo Bill! Be ready!” Old Negotiate heard the words and asked quickly: “Say, pards, does yer mean harm ter Bill?” “He means harm to me, and I will but protect myself,” said Captain Corduroy. “All right; that are squar’; but as he don’t see yer, I’ll jist shout an’ tell him.” Then he raised his voice and shouted: “Ho, Bill! Thar are danger camped on yer trail heur.” The warning caused a dead silence to follow, and Captain Corduroy and his pards dropped their hands upon revolvers, as though to first turn them on Old Negotiate. But he had his weapon out already, and the strangers seemed to realize that he was not the man to pick a quarrel with then and there, for a dozen friends were around him. With Buffalo Bill it was different. Negotiate’s hail had given out a declaration of war. A man ever cool, Captain Corduroy was only an instant nonplused; then he cried: “Yes, pards, I have come on Buffalo Bill’s trail. He killed my two brothers, and right here I intend to avenge them.” This caused a general scattering of the crowd from the piazza. They were not too drunk to forget that self-preservation is nature’s first law, and they dashed into the barroom with an alacrity that was amusing. Old Negotiate went, too, though not from fear. He thought that from a window he could the better aid Buffalo Bill, and he took up his stand just inside, and stood ready for what might follow. The strangers had held their ground. They had proven themselves generous fellows in facing the bar, and they would not flinch now when it was a case where there were five against one man, no matter what the reputation of that man might be. “Give out ther hymn, cap’n, an’ we’ll shout ther doxology,” cried one of them. “I will meet him first,” sternly said the captain. “Thet bein’ ther case, we’ll fall back a leetle,” and the first speaker gave a backward step or two, which was followed by his immediate comrades. “You lose your geld if you desert me,” savagely cried Captain Corduroy. “Ain’t desertin’, only takin’ up a more safer posish, cap’n.” In the meantime Buffalo Bill was coming toward the hotel, his horse in a slow walk. He had answered the hail of Old Negotiate with a wave of the hand, and shown no other sign that he understood it. He saw the sudden decamping of the crowd and smiled. Then his eyes fell upon the form of Captain Corduroy, and he gave a slight start. Buffalo Bill was mounted upon his matchless black, Midnight, sat easily in his saddle, and was evidently equipped for a journey. As he drew near the steps leading to the hotel piazza, he drew rein and said: “So it is you, Kent King, known as the Gambler Guide! I know you in spite of your disguise.” Captain Corduroy, revealed now as Kent King, drew his revolver. “Then it is war?” said Buffalo Bill, at the same time drawing his weapon. “Yes, war to the death,” shouted Captain Corduroy, and with the last word he threw forward his revolver to fire.