Hearing voices, and recognizing that they were white men, he stepped boldly forward and knocked at the door.

Instantly there followed a dead silence within, and again he knocked.

“Who is there?” asked a gruff voice.

“A pard.”

“Come in, pard.”

Billy obeyed.

But instantly he regretted it, for his eyes fell upon a dozen villainous-looking fellows, several of whom he recognized as having seen loafing at the Overland stations, and who were considered all that was bad.

“Who are you?” asked one who appeared to be the leader.

“I am Bill Cody, a stage driver on the Overland, and I came up here on a bear-hunt.”

“You’re a healthy looking stage driver, you are, when you are nothing more than a boy.”

“Yes, Bob, he tells ther truth, fer I hes seen him handle ther ribbons, and he does it prime too; he are the Pony Rider who they calls Buff’ler Billy,” said another of the gang.

“Ther devil yer say:  waal, I has heerd o’ him as a greased terror, an’ he looks it; but who’s with yer, young pard?”

“I am alone.”

“It hain’t likely.”

“But I am.”

“Yer must be durned fond o’ b’ar-meat ter come up here alone.”

“I am.”

“Waal, did yer get yer b’ar?”

“No.”

“Whar’s yer critter?”

“My horse is down the mountain.”

“I’ll go arter him,” said one suspiciously; but Billy answered quickly: 

“Oh, no, I’ll not trouble you; but if I can leave my rifle here, I’ll go after him.”

“All right, pard; but I guesses two of us better go with yer fer comp’ny, as we loves ter be sociable.”

Buffalo Billy well knew now that he was in a nest of horse-thieves and desperadoes; but he dared not show his suspicions, as he felt assured they would kill him without the slightest compunction.

So he said pleasantly: 

“Well, come along, for it is pleasanter to have company, and I’ll stay with you to-night if you’ll let me.”

“Oh, yes, we’ll let yer stay, fer we is awful social in our notions.  Here Ben, you and Tabor go with my young pard and bring his horse up to the corral.”

The two assigned for this duty were the very worst looking of the band, as far as villainous faces went; but Buffalo Billy’s quick brain had already formed a plan of escape, and he was determined to carry it out.

Down the hill they went until they came to the horse, and both eyed his fine points, as dimly seen in the darkness, with considerable pleasure, while one muttered: 

“The Cap will be sure to fancy him.”

“There is a string of game that might come in well for supper,” said Billy, as he pointed to a dark object on the ground.

“They will, fer sure,” was the eager answer, and the man stooped to pick up the game when Billy suddenly dealt him a blow that felled him to the earth.