Buffalo Bill lowered his head and projected himself at the corridor, hearing the fleeing steps of the man who had shot at him. “White-eyed Moses!” was his thought. The rascal, discovering that he had failed once more, was so frightened by it and the scout’s reckless pursuit that he failed to fire again, but ran headlong toward the wine rooms. When Buffalo Bill reached them, however, the man he sought was not there. And when the inmates were questioned they declared that though they had heard the shot they had seen no one. As he turned back, Buffalo Bill thought he heard a voice in one of the small rooms, the one nearest the saloon. But when he entered it, the door being open, he saw no one, and the room was empty. As the cubby-hole of a place was dark, he struck a match, to look about. As if that were the signal, the room gave a downward jerk and dip, then settled with him, sinking so rapidly that he could not get out by the door. He did not know it, then; but he was in the same elevator room which had trapped the baron. As the elevator struck bottom somewhere with a heavy jerk, the scout heard a piece of wood break from its fastenings and come down on him. With quick presence of mind he dropped flat to the floor. The wood struck so heavily that it would have crushed his head like an eggshell if it had hit it fair; but by throwing himself flat the scout escaped with only a bruising of his shoulders, as one end of the timber struck against the elevator wall and was partly stayed by it. “Trapped!” gritted the scout. He drew his revolver, waiting for the next move of his enemies; for he was sure this had not happened by chance. It came soon enough. The door opened before him, into the cellar, and some men jumped at him. But as they expected to find that he had been knocked out by the dropping of the timber, they were not prepared for the facts. One went down from a blow of the scout’s fist planted where it would do much good; the others--there were four of them--tumbled backward. In another moment the scout was out in the cellar, his revolver swinging. “Stand back!” rang his clear voice. When they came at him with a jump he fired. One man dropped, hitting the cellar bottom with a grunt. Another the scout knocked down, giving the rascal a left-handed side-winder. The total result enabled Buffalo Bill to run to the other end of the cellar, looking for a way out. One of the men on the floor opened with a revolver, but he shot wild, being excited, and not able to see very well. The scout did not reply to the shooting, but groped along, looking for an exit. He came beneath a manhole, with a pile of coal under it. He knew the coal could not have been dumped there unless there was a place above for a wagon to stand. So he scrambled to the top of the coal and set his broad shoulders against the iron covering. Two of the men were on their feet again and were now coming for him. One was swearing like a pirate.