“Darke is dead, Hickok.”
“I know. I saw the body. Must have been some doing on and near this flat.”
Buffalo Bill told what had occurred, and Wild Bill opened his eyes in astonishment and admiration. “Great Scott! But why wasn’t I here?” he exclaimed.
The king of scouts eyed him coolly. “The fight has but just begun,” he quietly remarked. “There is a chance for you yet. There is a girl to be rescued and a villain to catch and punish.”
The tall scout arose, the flame of battle in his eyes. “Come on,” he said. “I am ready.”
“So am I,” returned the king of scouts, “though I would feel better if I had a horse.”
“You’ll have one, so will Bart here,” said Wild Bill. “The Indian scouts came here mounted. I saw them when they left their plugs to make the sneak on the flat.”
Buffalo Bill’s eye kindled. He got up, and Bart Angell and Carl Henson followed suit. The food wallets were filled, and then the quartet went down the flat, all walking, Wild Bill and the young lawyer leading their animals.
At the mouth of the ravine the bodies of the two Indians slain by Wild Bill were found. The king of scouts was surprised to discover that one of the Indians was the giant Crow-killer. As he looked at the motionless form of his late antagonist, a daring scheme formulated in his mind.
“You have done a big thing, Hickok,” he said soberly to Wild Bill. “You have given me the chance to get into the Navaho camp.”