“Nicholas,” protested Pizen Kate, “why don’t you say ‘lady,’ instead of ‘female?’ It’s ongallant of ye.” Nevertheless, Pizen Kate was as anxious as any to get into the house and discover what it meant, when, after calling, Buffalo Bill could arouse no one. The scout now forced one of the windows, and they entered the house by that. Apparently no one was within. “She may ’a’ gone inter thet tunnel, Buffler,” suggested Nomad. But when they sprung the hidden trapdoor and explored the tunnel beneath they found no one there. “Waugh!” said Nomad. “Their hosses aire out thar in ther stable, hobnobbin’ now with ole Nebby, and we’ll jes’ camp down hyar until they try to git their hosses.” Buffalo Bill and his companions took possession of the house quite as if it were their own, and they made so thorough an inspection of it that it seemed impossible any one could be in it and they not aware of it. Yet Buffalo Bill was sure that the young woman had not left the house, unless she had done so by some exit of which he had no knowledge. With the coming of night they tried to make themselves comfortable. If Latimer was not hiding in the house, Buffalo Bill might expect his arrival at any time. As Latimer’s guest, he felt that he had a right in the house. Hence, he prepared supper, using some food overlooked by the looting redskins, and then he and his companions sat in the darkness of one of the front rooms, waiting for whatever might happen. After an hour or two the silence was broken by a gentle rapping on the front door. When Buffalo Bill answered this without opening the door, a man’s voice was heard, begging admission. “I’ve lost my way,” said the man, “and I’d like to stop here for the night.” Buffalo Bill had already heard soft footsteps outside and low whispers, and he knew the man was lying. “You are alone?” he asked. “Yes, alone, and I’ve lost my way.” “What are you doing in this remote section?” “Prospecting.” “Well, the prospects for you getting into this house before daylight are not good just now. Come around in the morning, and if you are all right we’ll try to give you your breakfast, anyway. But we can’t open the house now.” As Buffalo Bill expected, the answer to this was a shot through the door. Being prepared for it, he had stepped softly aside, and the lead plowed harmlessly through the panel and lodged in the wall. Following the shot there was a rush upon the door, in an attempt to smash it from its hinges; but the door was a stout affair and resisted this attempt to force it. When the rush had failed, silence followed for a short time; the outlaws were only preparing for a more desperate attempt. “I think, Buffler, thet they knows you aire in hyar, and they’re after yer hair,” said Nomad. “I think so,” the scout agreed. “They knows that you’re a dangerous man ter the likes of their kind, and they intends ter wipe yer out, and all of us thet’s with yer.”