It seemed that Bill had not been able to resist the temptation of going to see what kind of a mob it was that wanted to test the pluck of the Buffalo Bill party; and just as he stepped into the room, one of the bruisers put his hand on his shoulder and said: "Hello, Buffalo Bill! we have been looking for you all day." "My name is not Buffalo Bill; you are mistaken in the man," was the reply.
"You are a liar!" said the bruiser.
Bill instantly knocked him down, and then seizing a chair he laid out four or five of the crowd on the floor, and drove the rest out of the room.

All this was done in a minute or two, and by the time I got down stairs, Bill was coming out of the bar-room, whistling a lively tune.
"Well!" said he, "I have been interviewing that party who wanted to clean us out." "I thought you promised to come into the Opera House by the private entrance ?" "I did try to follow that trail, but I got lost among the canons, and then I ran in among the hostiles," said he; "but it is all right now.
They won't bother us any more.

I guess those fellows have found us." And sure enough they had.

We heard no more of them after that.
Another incident occurred, one night, at Portland, Maine.

Bill found it impossible to go to sleep at the hotel on account of the continued talking of some parties who were engaged in a game of cards in an adjoining room.