hat trip, Charley."
The girl, too, laughed, but quietly. She was just a little touched,
though only this winter she had left Bismarck because the place would
have no more of her.
In the face of Billy's approval, the patriarch fell silent.
About midnight the four inmates of the frontier hotel were awakened by a
tremendous racket outside. The stranger arose, fully clothed, from his
bunk, and peered through the narrow open window. A dozen horses were
standing grouped in charge of a single mounted man, indistinguishable in
the dark. Out of the open door a broad band of light streamed from the
saloon, whence came the noise of voices and of boots tramping about.
"It is Black Hank," said Billy, at his elbow, "Black Hank and his
outfit. He hitches to this yere snubbin'-post occasional."
Black Hank in the Hills would have translated to Jesse James farther
south.
The stranger turned suddenly energetic.
"Don't you make no fight?" he asked.
"Fight?" said Billy, wondering. "Fight? Co'se not. Hank don't plunder
_me_ none. He jest ambles along an' helps himself, and leaves th' dust
fer it every time. I jest lays low an' lets him operate. I never has no
_dealin's_ with him, understand. He jest nat'rally waltzes in an' plants
his grub-hooks on what he needs. _I_ don't know nothin' about it. _I'm_
dead asleep."
He bestowed a shadowy wink on the stranger
Below, the outlaws moved here and there.
"Billy!" shouted a commanding voice, "Billy Knapp!"
The hotel-keeper looked perplexed.
"Now, what's he tollin' _me_ for?" he asked of the man by his side.
"Billy!" shouted the voice again, "come down here, you Siwash. I want to
palaver with you!"
"All right, Hank," replied Billy.
He went to his "room," and buckled on a heavy belt; then descended the
steep stairs. The bar-room was lighted and filled with men. Some of them
were drinking and eating; others were strapping provisions into portable
form. Against the corner of the bar a tall figure of a man leaned
smoking--a man lithe, active, and muscular, with a keen dark face, and
black eyebrows which met over his nose. Billy walked silently to this
man.
"What is it?" he asked, shortly. "This yere ain't in th' agreement."
"I know that," replied the stranger.
"Then leave yore dust and vamoose."
"My dust is there," replied Black Hank, placing his hand on a buckskin
bag at his side, "and you're paid, Billy Knapp. I want to ask you a
question. Standing Rock has
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