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Buffalo Bill and his pards tried to “jump a trail” that afternoon and evening, without success.

The scout talked with Brown, the wounded man in the hospital; but got no additional information.

“The two fellers was so masked,” said Brown, “that I couldn’t tell if they was black, white, or red. The surprise was so complete, anyway, that maybe I wouldn’t have noticed. We wasn’t expectin’ trouble—leastways, I wasn’t; for I allowed the agents would be fooled complete, and would tackle the stage, if they done anything. Then, fu’st thing I knew, there was them masked devils whanging away at us with repeating rifles. Austin was killed; and I got this hole in my side. Your Dutch pard was gamy, and clipped one of the agents. I could swear to that; because, as I drapped, I heard the feller rip out a cuss word, and saw him reel back. But he didn’t fall; so, p’raps the wound didn’t amount to much. One of ’em tried to down the Dutchman; but he got away. That’s about all; except that we lost everything. They even took my hardware and Austin’s, with our cartridge belts. Then they drove the burros away. I had my nose ag’inst the yearth, playin’ dead fer all I was wu’th at that time, so I didn’t see ’em go, but I heard ’em. About the next thing I knew, your friend was bendin’ over me. I got purty weak, and I reckon I had fainted. And that’s all.”