Some laughed at this, but Pistols swore roundly, yet dared not move, for he saw he was caught, the left hand of the scout lying upon his own weapon where it had fallen upon the table, the right holding his revolver within a foot of his eyes. But the words of the miner had been answered by a savage chorus of voices, crying: “You is right, Pard Pistols, for Buffalo Bill is the guilty man.” Still, the pluck of the scout did not desert him, and he never changed expression at the outburst. Encouraged by the cries of his comrades, though under cover of the scout’s pistol, the miner said: “See here, Buffalo Bill, you has half a hundred guns on you, but we don’t intend ter shoot yer, but hang yer, as you got poor Tom and Jerry strung up, so up with yer hands, mighty quick, says I.” “Yes, up with your hands, Buffalo Bill!” shouted the crowd savagely, while scores of revolvers covered the scout as he still sat at table, facing the ringleader, whom he yet held his revolver upon, the muzzle within a foot of his eyes. It certainly did look bad for Buffalo Bill, and for two reasons. First, the charge of Pistols, backed by Dave Dunn, a reputable miner, seemed to be believed by a great many of those present. Second, the crowd that backed Pistols was not only numerous, but composed of the very worst element in the mines. This shut off many, who felt that the accusation was utterly false, from lending any aid. Pistols was certainly in danger of instant death at the hands of the scout, but the latter was equally in danger of sudden death from the backers of his accuser. Thus the situation rested until Buffalo Bill broke the silence with: “See here, Pistols, I recall that ugly face of yours, now that I get a better look at it, and I remember you as one of Powder Face Pete’s gang who ambushed me some time ago, under pretense that I was Silk Lasso Sam. You wished to get rid of me then, because I make this country too hot for just such men as you and your ilk. “Now, what are you going to do about it, Mister Pistols, for if I am facing death, you are just as close as I am to it, so begin business when you please, and you’ll find that I’ll never hang, and dying, will take company along, so as not to get too lonesome on the trail across the Dark River.” The splendid pluck of Buffalo Bill, at bay against a crowd, delighted many present. But those who surrounded him were his foes, and the better element hung back, feeling that a terrible scene must follow the first shot fired. Pistols felt his situation keenly. The danger had sobered him. His desire was to see Buffalo Bill hanged by the crowd, and it began to look as though he would not be there to witness it. He felt how certain death was for him if his comrades pushed the scout to extremes. Such was the situation, and the suspense to all was fearful, especially to Pistols and the scout, though the latter was, as a miner expressed it to a pard: “Beautifully serene.”