“You keep well posted, Bennett; but you’re behind time on this run.”
“What do you mean?” asked the startled road-agent, beginning to suspect that Buffalo Bill’s ease of manner masked some high card in the game.
Buffalo Bill’s brows met in a sudden frown.
“You’ve got the drop on me, Bennett, or you’d never question my word aloud.”
“Open the coach door and look for yourself.”
“Not for Joe! I’m no spring chicken, Cody,” laughed the outlaw. “Set a trap for us, have you? Men! fire through that coach--low down.”
Half a dozen or more rifles blazed away. The bullets shattered the sashes of the coach doors and went through and through the vehicle.
“Scared at nothing, are you?” taunted Buffalo Bill. “If I’d come up behind you on a dark night and hollered ‘Boo!’ I suppose you’d all run.”
“Men! if he moves, kill him!” commanded the exasperated Bennett, and he stepped forward and flung open the coach door.
Even Boyd Bennett started at what he beheld there.
“Whether they did or did not, you lose the game, Bennett,” said Buffalo Bill, laughing with an appearance of heartiness which he did not feel.
“I don’t believe they got it!” cried Bennett, in rage.
“Well, you can run along and ask ’em. They’re not over a dozen miles away, I reckon.”
The countenance of Boyd Bennett grew black with passion, and for a moment he was silent, while into his eyes crept an expression of devilish intent. Then he spoke, and his words hissed from a throat hot with passion:
“Buffalo Bill, you have sealed your doom by this act!”
“Say! I’ve heard talk like that before, Bennett.”
“Well, go on with the dance,” quoth the scout coolly.
“Here!” commanded the bandit chief, “two of you men get up on the box and bind him.”
He was obeyed at once, as far as the climbing to the box went, although the fellows approached the scout gingerly enough. Buffalo Bill sat smiling, with his hands still raised above his head. Suddenly, as the men were about to seize him, and their bodies in some measure intervened between his own and the rifles and pistol pointed at the scout, the latter seized both with iron grip.
Giving his war-whoop, the scout leaped up, hurled one of the road-agents to the ground, and with the other in his arms leaped from the box of the coach. As they alighted, Buffalo Bill drew a revolver, and was throwing it forward to fire at the outlaw chief, when the weapon was knocked from his hand by a blow from behind, and several of the bandits threw themselves upon him.