The man increased his pace. When he had come within a couple of yards of the scout, something happened which the scout had not been expecting. “Up with _your_ hands, pilgrim! That’s my pard ye’re a-drawin’ a bead on.” This raucous voice came from behind. A thrill ran through the scout’s nerves as he began to understand what Dell’s dumb-show meant. She had been trying to tell him that another of the ruffians was coming. The man had come, and was now in the scout’s rear. Naturally, Buffalo Bill could not look behind him. To have done so would have been an invitation for the man in front to drop his hands, pull a revolver, and begin firing. “That you, Hendricks?” the scout called, without making a move to lift his hands, and without taking his eyes off the fellow in front of him. “Sure it’s me,” came the voice, “big as life an’ twicet as onnery. Did ye hear me when I told ye to put up yer hands?” “I heard you,” the scout answered, “and I’m not going to do it. The click of a trigger in your hands will be my signal to throw lead into Banks.” “I ain’t a-goin’ to have no foolin’,” snorted Hendricks. “If you want to drop yer guns an’ skin out, well an’ good; Banks an’ me won’t object. You’ll find it a heap healthier, I reckon, than to try to make front on the pair of us. We ain’t got no crow to pick with _you_, and you hadn’t ort to force our hands. Will ye git?” “No.” “Well, I’m a-goin’ to count three. By the time I finish the count I’m a-goin’ to turn loose the fireworks, unless you either git or throw up yer hands. That’s plain enough, ain’t it?” “I understand you, but----” “_One!_” There was a tone in the voice behind that plainly meant business. “_Two!_” The scout was just planning to jerk his second revolver from his belt and whirl about so as to cover both Hendricks and Banks, when a fourth person took a hand in the odd game. This was Dell. From the hill-crest she was leveling a revolver at Hendricks. “Drop that gun!” she cried; “drop it quick or you’ll hear from _me_!” Buffalo Bill could hear Hendricks swearing to himself at this unexpected summons. CHAPTER XVII. BANKS AND HENDRICKS. There was something humorous in the situation, now that Dell had forced herself into the peculiar combination, and held the key to it, so to speak. Buffalo Bill had covered Banks, Hendricks had covered Buffalo Bill, and now Dell was looking at Hendricks over a diamond-sight. “Who the blazes are ye, up there on the hill?” shouted Hendricks, seeking to temporize. “All you need to know is that I’ve got the drop,” cried Dell sharply. “You heard what I said about dropping that revolver. I’m not going to repeat the order.” “Ye’re a woman, by ther sound o’ yer voice,” shouted Hendricks, who did not dare remove his eyes from the scout, any more than the scout dared take his from Banks, “an’ I reckon ye daren’t shoot at----”