“Whooee! in thar--ye all dead, er on’y jes’ nachally givin’ ther reds er chanst ter jump in an’ gobble ther hull kerboodle ov ye?” A tall, dark, broad-shouldered man with piercing eyes and heavy beard stepped to the door. “Well,” he said, “I don’t know who ye be, but yer welcome as long as ye behave yerself.” “Waugh! Who ever hearn tell o’ ole Nick Nomad doin’ anything else but behavin’? Stranger, yer better look ergin. Mebbeso ye can see a ombray what is some tired an’ more er less hungry--mostly more.” “Climb down, old Nick Nomad, or the Old Nick hisself--neither of ye’ll ever be turned away from Jasp Avery’s door hungry. Git down, old man, an’ come right in; I’ll tend to yer hoss, same as if he be my own.” “Jasp Avery, I likes ther way ye holds yer mouth an’ swings yer under jaw. So off I comes, an’ hyar’s my hand.” Nomad went with the cowman, and saw that the “faithful” Hide-rack didn’t accept an opportunity to plant a pair of steel-shod heels in the anatomy of the stranger who was offering hospitality. Inside the home of the herdsman Nomad was introduced to “Father Avery,” who was lying on a rudely constructed lounge and emitting occasional groans. The story of an attack by Indians the previous night soon came out, and Nomad heard of the climax with satisfaction. The younger Avery explained that he had foreseen trouble with the Indians and had sent his wife and children to Fort Sarpy a month previous. His cowpunchers, four of them, were all far back where they had gone with the stock to find better grazing. He and his father were alone, but they were well fortified and had plenty of rifles and ammunition. The house had been constructed with an eye to possible hostilities, and resembled a miniature fort, out of which led an underground passage to a dugout that was concealed underground and ventilated by an opening into an almost impenetrable thicket of willow and sage brush. The arrangement was well calculated to give a strong band of attacking Indians a warm reception and a mystery to wind it up, if they overpowered the settler and set fire to the ranch house. In his story of riding down and disposing of the Indians, the younger Avery mentioned the two white men he had passed on the plain. He said he didn’t like the looks of them. Old Nomad was instantly interested, and demanded a description. Within five minutes he was convinced that Avery had held conversation with the escaped Price and the supposed-to-be-dead Bloody Ike. “I’d bet Hide-rack ergin er grasshopper them’s ther fellers!” he declared. “An’ by ther harnsome whiskers o’ my Aunt Hannah’s billy goat I wish Buffler was here.” “Who’s ‘Buffler’?” demanded Avery.