He started more than that--he started a landslip! The crash of the bounding bowlder, and the roar of the landslip which it had started, warned the scout and his pards of their peril. Yet it seemed that the discovery of their danger came hardly in time. “Run for your lives!” the scout yelled. But as they ran for their lives the Dutch pard went down before the terrible landslip. Fortunately, Baron von Schnitzenhauser was an exceedingly quick-witted man in times of danger; otherwise, it is probable he would not have lived so long. He scrambled for a hole that had a covering of rock, in the shape of a shelf, and hurled himself under it just in time. With a booming roar the bowlder passed over him; then the loosened soil and rocks followed it, with a noise that was deafening. The baron was buried, apparently; but he still could breathe; for the shelf of rock held the weight of the débris from even touching him. Buffalo Bill and Nomad turned back. The landslip had passed, but a cloud of dust hovered. Out of it floated those yells of the baron. “Waugh! He’s livin’, anyhow,” said Nomad. The yells of the baron also brought Wild Bill and Matt Shepard; they had started when they heard the landslip. It took two hours to dig the baron out; but he issued forth without a scratch on him. “A fool for luck,” said Shepard, when the baron had been unearthed. “Uff you mean der Fool uff der Folly Moundain, idt iss so,” admitted the baron, feeling gingerly of himself, to make sure he was uninjured. “It iss no luckiness for me dot I am scar’dt into sixdeen fidts alreadty, iss idt?” “Another lucky boy,” remarked Wild Bill, “is Tim Benson. He started that landslip, and I saw him running. But he was too far off for me to shoot at him; and by this time he must be miles from here.” “Whether he is so very lucky or not will be told by and by,” said Buffalo Bill. “I still intend to get him.” CHAPTER XXII. TIM BENSON’S CLEVERNESS. With Tim Benson at large a desperate fear lay on the town and on the trails. Therefore, when Hank Elmore, stage driver, swung his horses round in front of the stage station, and bawled out, “All aboard fer Calumet Wells!” the response was disappointing. A woman stepped out of the station, closely veiled, and carrying a large hand bag. Elmore dropped from his high seat and handed her into his vehicle. Both Elmore and the spectators knew that she was Miss Vera Bright. “Nobody else wantin’ to take passage in this hyer hearse?” demanded Elmore, swinging round on his high-heeled boots. “Tim Benson ain’t goin’ to----” A belated little man pushed his way hurriedly through the crowd. “I’m going,” he said, and ran up to the coach. “Hop inside, er on ther seat with ther driver, jest as ye like,” cried Elmore. He swung on round, glowering at the crowd.