Luck favored him, for there had come into the town of Crystal Spring, at the base of the mountains, a band of old-time bordermen, hunters, trappers, and wild-horse catchers, with whom he was personally acquainted. It had been Nomad’s intention to pick up a company of men in the town, merchants, clerks, school teachers, stage drivers, bartenders, gamblers, anything he could get, even though he had small faith in the fighting spirit of a company thus collected. But that intention was set aside when he saw Lawler and his wild range riders; and when they enrolled under him, as they did as soon as they understood his need and heard his appeal, the confidence of the old trapper rose many degrees. “Waugh!” he said, seizing the hand of Bill Lawler himself, and shaking it as if it were a pump handle. “This hyar makes me think er ther time me an’ a lot of the boyees give ther Snake River Injuns sech a hustle. Lawler, ’twar Providence, and no mistake, thet sent you hyar now.” He had fought Indians with Lawler, and had trapped and hunted with him; and this was true of many of the men who had come into Crystal Spring with Lawler. As has been said, they were a wild-looking lot, as they gathered round old Nick Nomad and heard his story; and they declared their intention of “wiping out” the Blackfeet, if that were necessary. Among their arms, old-fashioned firearms prevailed, together with fringed hunting garments and beaver-skin caps. They carried hatchets and knives, after the Indian fashion, and the horses they rode were small, wiry Indian ponies. Some of them had been drinking in the saloons, before the old trapper arrived and made his call for volunteers, and these hilarious ones were for riding straight to the Blackfoot village and sweeping it out of existence with fire and pistol. “No!” said Nomad. “We goes fust thing ter Buffler, and then we does what he says. And I thinks we can’t git ter him any too quick ter please him.” Night was at hand by the time Nomad had guided these wild range riders to the point where he had left Cody and Pawnee Bill. Neither was there, and he had hardly expected that either would be. Nevertheless, the fact of their absence made it impossible for Nomad and his company of Indian fighters to push on during the darkness. They did not wish to overrun the scouts, who were supposed to be in advance, and Nomad was anxious to halt there, for the coming of Buffalo Bill. The range riders sprawled themselves for the night along the edge of the hills, with the cañon river roaring noisily below them. No fires were built and no lights were shown. Guards were stationed. They were in the Blackfoot country now, and a night surprise was a thing to be watched against. Through the night sentries kept sharp watch; but the night passed without excitement or incident of any kind.