Iron Bow came up with a number of his warriors. By this time a considerable crowd of curious redskins surrounded the two white men. But they showed no hostile feelings. The fiddle had caught their fancy; they kept telling the fiddler to work it again, though he did not understand them. “How?” said Iron Bow gravely. White-eyed Moses put out his hand. “I am gladt to see you,” he said. “Afdher a liddle we will have some music and a dance. My friend here can explain it to you petter than I. Idt is a peautiful location you have here for a willage; cooler and higher than in the town. I think myself I should enchoy it.” He shook hands with some of the warriors. None of them had said a word except the chief, but they shook his hand limply when he held it out. Now and then they looked at the blanketed white man, as if for an explanation. He gave it to Iron Bow in Ute, telling the chief that the man with the music-maker had come out to amuse them, so that they could have a dance if they wished; but that first he wanted to talk. Iron Bow grunted what seemed an assent, and the white men went into the lodge. “Iron Bow knows me,” explained the blanketed figure, who was none other than the road agent, Tim Benson. “So I hit this place when Cody and his gang crowded me too hard; and I’ve been here ever since.” “Excebt when you was road achenting!” Benson nodded. “I’ve been out just twice.” “Dare have been more holdt-ups than shust two.” “Others are jumpin’ in, eh?” “It is hinted that this Fool of Folly Mountain is in it.” “Likely he is. What I got I cached, and it’s where I can lay my hands on it when I need it. How is Juniper Joe?” “He couldn’t pe worse.” “It’s rough to be in a hole like that.” “Wery rough. Gopher Gabe triedt to get him out on bail, and couldn’t. He is held for murder, you understandt--for shooting that man, John Ward.” “Well, he could expect that. It’d be the same for me if they could lay hands on me. Cody there yet?” “Righdt there.” The outlaw ground out some ugly words between his teeth. “As we couldn’t git Juniper Joe out in no way, Gopher Gabe has sent me to see you,” explained the fiddler. “That so? Does he think I can do anything?” “He knows idt. I have here clodings and everything, so that you can make shanges in your looks. I can cut your hairs while I am here, too, and give you another shave.” Benson stared. “I was wondering what you had in that bag,” he said. “The oudtfit--everything you will needt. It is a desperate situvation. Gopher Gabe says that you are the only man what can work it, so as to get Juniper Joe out of the chail. And so I am here.” They talked for half an hour, then were forced to stop, because the curious Indians, peering in on them, gave them no peace. “You’ll have to give that dance, now that you’ve promised it,” said Benson. “It is vhat I wandt; so that I can surely say, vhen I go back, that I have been blaying the fiddle for an Indian dance.” “It’s known that you came?”