Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Weird Warning; Or, Dauntless Dell's Rival онлайн

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His arm felt better. He could use his hand as well as usual. There was some pain in the arm, but it was not severe.

Following breakfast, he went to one of the general stores and bought a new flannel shirt, a pair of boots, and a bowie, to take the place of the one he had lost in the mine.

After that, he sat in front of the Lucky Strike and smoked until dinner-time; and, after dinner, he smoked until four-thirty, when the stage pulled over the rim of the cañon and slid down the slope with the hind wheels tied.

The stage drew up in front of the hotel, and a mail-bag was thrown off. There was one passenger, a man in a linen duster, and clearly a stranger.

“He’s the one,” said Wild Bill to himself, knocking the ashes out of his pipe and getting out of his chair. “The chap doesn’t look much like an easy mark, though. I wonder if he has any notion he’s taking long chances with that hundred thousand of his?”

Just then Wild Bill experienced something like a jolt. A man rode up along the trail that led from the cañon bottom, drew rein in front of the hotel, dismounted, dropped his bridle-reins over a hitching-post, and followed the stranger into the Lucky Strike.