“That’s so; but suppose we keep a eye on ther valley, for if we see more of ’em gittin’ out, it means death ter us, if we don’t fust kill them.” “It does; but we’ll do ther killin’, as has just been done in this case of ther nigger; but let’s drag him down inter ther soft ground, go through his pockets, and see what he’s wuth to us outside of the killin’, and then he kin be left for coyotes ter chaw on, fer it’s too much like work ter plant him.” With this, the two men took hold of the negro, and their oaths revealed to Buffalo Bill that they were dragging him along down the steep hillside, and found it no easy task. Nearer and nearer they came, and the scout moved to the side of the rock nearest to which they must pass. A moment more and they came within ten feet of him, and would have come full upon him, when suddenly they were confronted by a tall form, and heard the words: “Hands up, both of you!” CHAPTER XXVI. FACE TO FACE WITH ENEMIES. The sudden appearance of the chief of the black scouts before them, appearing like an apparition to the two men, who had no thought of danger near, caused them to cry out in mingled terror and utter surprise. The form of the negro, which they were half bearing, half dragging along, was dropped with a suddenness that was by no mean showing a proper respect for the dead. The two men stood for an instant like statues, and before them towered the tall, athletic form of Buffalo Bill. He held a revolver in each hand, and was ten feet from them. “Hands up, I said!” The men had not heeded the first command, perhaps from utter helplessness, in their amazement. Now they did heed, and quickly. Buffalo Bill stepped forward toward the one nearest him, unbuckled his belt, thus disarming him of his knife and revolvers, and then drew the strap of his rifle over his head. “Now, your turn, sir!” The man did not move. “Step here, quick, or I’ll reach you with a bullet!” The scout saw that the men had discovered that they were two to one, and were plotting resistance. But the hint of reaching for him with a bullet brought the man quickly to within the length of the scout’s arm. He, too, was disarmed of his belt and weapons and his rifle. “Now, I wish to tie you, and if I see the first show of funny business, you will hand in your chips.” The men made no resistance, but they were glancing toward each other furtively, and certainly were plotting to escape. “Lie flat on your faces, both of you, and put your hands behind your backs!” came the order. “I’ll tie ’em, Massa Buf’ler Bill.” The words fairly startled the scout, with all his iron nerve. It was as though a dead man was speaking to him. The two men uttered a yell of fright, and, for a moment, seemed about to risk bullets in the face of superstitious fear. Had it been nighttime, the added dread that darkness brings to the superstitious would have sent them away on the jump.