She was making no movement, and the king of scouts believed that she had fainted. Had he known that the brutal villain had choked her into unconsciousness, his rage might have overlapped his judgment.
Holmes saw Buffalo Bill, and stopped to draw a knife from his belt.
“Shoot, if you will,” he shouted hoarsely, “and I will drive this knife into Myra Wilton’s heart.”
“You coward,” yelled Carl Henson, who had come up and was beside himself with rage and anguish. “Come down here and have it out with me.”
Holmes laughed hoarsely. “I’m playing a safe hand,” he yelled.
“What do ye expect ter gain by this monkey business?” demanded Bart Angell, who had his rifle pointed at the villain’s head and was waiting for a chance to fire. If the girl’s head had not rested against the villain’s cheek he would have fired, anyhow. “I’m not likely ter miss, but it won’t do ter take chances,” he said sourly to himself.
“Gain?” repeated Holmes. “Satisfaction, that’s all.” His eyes were rolling wildly, and Buffalo Bill realized that he was confronting a half-crazed enemy; and he was the more dangerous on that account.
But where was Wild Bill? He had had time to reach the peak, and yet there was no sign of him.
While the king of scouts wondered at the nonappearance of his old comrade, Holmes, holding the knife in a threatening attitude, backed out of sight, and continued his ascent of the peak.
Buffalo Bill and his companions ran around the base to make a discovery that at the moment gave them some satisfaction.