“And many under his coat which you can’t see.”

Just at that moment the “terror” got up, and, lo! a pistol fell out of his clothing on to the floor.  Fortunately, it did not go off, but it frightened us almost out of our senses (the ladies, of course).  Buffalo Bill picked up the weapon and handed it back to Mr. Holmes, who put it quietly in his pocket, seeming rather abashed.

Buffalo Bill and his friend walked down the middle of the car, and we were somewhat agitated when he stopped in front of Johan and said in a soft, cooing voice, “Would you take a drink with me, sir?”

We gasped when we saw Johan shake his head and say politely with a smile, “No, thank you.”  We expected a volley of pistol-shots and the speedy wiping out of us all, but Buffalo Bill merely gave Johan an inquiring look and a tired but sarcastic smile.

Mr. Cadwalader said, hurriedly, to Johan, “Go, for Heaven’s sake!”

Johan hastened to follow the good advice and Buffalo Bill, and said with diplomatic artifice, “On second thoughts, sir, I will not refuse your invitation, as I am a little thirsty.”  On which the three gentlemen went out together.

Johan came back refreshed and radiant.  Never had he seen or talked to such a delightful person.  Buffalo Bill had offered him some of his own favorite brand of whisky, which Johan found very good.

Johan asked B.B. later, being on more familiar terms, “Would you have been offended if I had refused to drink with you?”

B.B. answered, “If I had not seen that you were a foreigner I should not have liked it,” meaning, I suppose, bloody murder and sudden death.

B.B. said the reason why he had chosen Johan out of the rest to drink with was that Johan looked so like the Grand-Duke Alexis, for whom he had been a guide on the prairies some years ago.

General Taylor, son of the former President, joined us at Cheyenne.

* * * * *

We have just passed thirty snow-sheds at Rock Creek, and have seen some wolves and some antelopes roaming about.  We looked for buffaloes, but the only buffalo we saw was the mild Bill, who sat quietly reading a magazine, looking at us with his soft-brown eyes.

We were very high up in the Rocky Mountains.  All around us was snow, and the view of the blue mountains, the tops of which were quite white, looked beautiful in the distance.  There were some Indians on horseback drawn up in file as the train went by.  They had all their war-paint on, were covered with picturesque blankets, and their feather head-dresses reached over their horses’ backs; they had buckskin leggings covered with beads, which made them look very picturesque.  They looked stolidly and indifferently at us while we stared at them admiringly from the car windows.  The prairie-dogs looked like squirrels “sitting up so cute,” as Miss C. said, “dodging in and out of their holes.”