Alkali Pete gave a shamefaced look at the smiling girl, and then turned an appealing glance on Buffalo Bill.
The colonel spoke at this juncture. “Your plan shows a good heart, Cody, but you forget that you are under my orders.”
The king of scouts bit his lip. “That’s so,” he reluctantly admitted. “And what is your order?”
“That you go with us and let Mr. Allen proceed to the castle.”
The lanky plainsman’s eyes danced with pleasure. But the new arrangement was not carried out. Sybil Hayden vetoed it.
“I have not had my say yet,” she declared, with an expression of determination on her pretty face. “You may all do as you please, but I am going back to the castle. I am interested in the squabble, as my friend, Mr. Allen, calls it. I want to be a looker-on in Venice. And, besides, I hope to induce you three husky men to come with me. Perhaps the end may come the sooner for your presence and assistance.”
“But, Sybil, the danger,” expostulated her father. “You have had enough of harsh experience, I should imagine.”
“No use talking, dad, I’m going to have my way. There is no great danger. There will be about twenty men against a dozen.”
“You are talking strangely for a woman,” returned the colonel severely. “I am surprised at your conduct.”
“There, there, daddy”—speaking caressingly—“you have miscalled your feeling. You really want to go to the castle. Now, be honest and tell the truth.”