Buffalo Bill received this statement with satisfaction. But he concealed his feeling beneath a mask of indifference.
Pigeon-toed Ike went out, and half an hour later Black-face Ned came in. The outlaw leader was in an angry mood. Fixing his sharp eyes on his prisoner, he said sternly: “There’s a hitch up at the cliff, and I’ll bet you know what’s up. Tell me the truth, or I’ll kill you here and now.”
The villain drew a bowie knife from his belt, and, walking over to the side of Buffalo Bill, shook the weapon in the prisoner’s face.
In an instant he met with an astounding surprise.
Up went Buffalo Bill’s hands, and the knife was wrenched from the villain’s grasp. Before a move in self-defense could be made, the knife was buried in the outlaw’s side.
As he fell to the floor, the king of scouts arose to his feet.
Black-face Ned was gasping for breath, and his eyes reflected an expression of mingled pain and fear.
After quickly removing his victim’s other weapons, Buffalo Bill stanched the flow of blood and bound up the wound. This done, he secured the villain’s wrists and ankles. “I’ll not stuff a gag in your mouth, if you’ll promise not to cry out for help,” said the victor coldly.
The reply came in a faint voice: “I couldn’t yell if I wanted to. I—I am dying.”
“Nonsense,” was the harsh response. “I knew what I was about when I did the sticking. You are not hurt to speak of. I didn’t even scrape a rib, and your heart is as whole and”—with a stern look—“as black as ever it was. The blood-letting will do you good. It will take some of the aguardiente poison out of your system.”