Quickly he made his way there and felt sure that some one was striving to break in. Voices reached his ear, too, and one said: “Yer ain’t moved her, Jerry, so let me get a whack at her, as I fer one don’t intend ter be caught in this neighborhood arter dark, fer this is too near ther Hangman’s Gulch ter suit me.” “And it don’t please me a little bit.” “Take ther ax and let fly, for thar’s money inside I is dead sart’in,” was the reply. The scout placed his foot on the projecting ends of the logs and quickly ascended to the roof, which was nearly flat and made of boards on top of logs, slanting toward the cliff under which the cabin stood. He drew a revolver in each hand, knelt down, and, peeping over, saw the two men hard at work to break in the door. So far they had made no impression upon either the locks or the door, and, covering both of them with a revolver, Buffalo Bill said sternly: “Hands up, pards, for I want you both!” The voice coming from over their heads, and just after their expressed dread of being so near Hangman’s Gulch when night came on, brought from the lips of each man a cry of fright. They shrank back, looked up, and saw their danger. “Hands up, I say!” roared Buffalo Bill. Quickly they obeyed, and in an instant the scout had leaped down from the roof and confronted them. “Breaking into Deadshot Dean’s home, are you? Well, I am glad I happened along at this time, for the miner is a friend of mine, and I guess you are citizens who will not be missed if you are called suddenly away from Pocket City. I’ll take your weapons, sir,” and the scout slipped the revolver and knife from the belt of one of the men. “And yours, too,” and the second one was disarmed. “Ain’t you Buffalo Bill?” “So I am called.” “Waal, I might have knowed it, fer yer is alus around when yer ain’t wanted.” “I’m a scout, you know,” was the smiling answer. “Waal, what does yer treat us this way fer?” “When I get you to Pocket City it is more than likely you’ll find out,” was the scout’s significant reply. The two house-breakers did not relish the reply of Buffalo Bill. They felt that they were in dangerous hands and had been caught in an act that would not be tolerated in Yellow Dust Valley. It would never do to be taken into Pocket City as prisoners. Their reputations there were of a very unsavory character. They must get away at all costs, for an enraged border crowd was hard to manage and would only argue the matter after they were hanged. “I say, Buffalo Bill, this is a darned good joke,” said one of the prisoners. “What is?” “Your making us prisoners.” “Yes, it is funny.” “I doesn’t see ther joke,” growled the other. “You haven’t the sense of humor that your companion has, for he sees it,” said the scout. “But I means this, Pard Buffalo Bill; we was sent here by Deadshot Dean ter git some things for him, and as he bed lost his key he told us ter knock in ther door, don’t yer see?” “I see where you did the knocking, yes.”