With a loud yell, he darted straight at Buffalo Bill, and in a second the two men were locked in a close embrace.
It was soon over. Buffalo Bill, with a mighty heave, flung the redskin clean over his shoulder.
For a few moments Black Panther lay upon the ground stunned. Then he rose unsteadily to his feet and glared at Buffalo Bill like a tiger.
The king of the scouts held himself ready for another wrestle, if his opponent chose to take it—but Black Panther had another idea in his mind.
He whipped a knife out of his belt, and would have rushed at Buffalo Bill and stabbed him to the heart, but Running Water and several of the other braves, fearing just this thing, had watched him closely.
In a trice they seized and disarmed him. He struggled furiously, but in the hands of half a dozen strong braves he was as helpless as a baby.
There was no one to say a word in his defense. Even the most drunken of the braves condemned his action, for hospitality is a sacred obligation to the red man. And Black Panther had actually tried to murder a guest!
By command of Running Water he was taken to a lodge and closely guarded until the white men left the village on the following morning.
Three braves, the most sober whom Running Water could select, watched him all night, tomahawk in hand.