“Not one, Cody.”
Buffalo Bill’s face assumed a look of anxiety—an expression not often seen there.
“I had called for another volunteer [when] you were discovered coming. It was a splendid dash you made, Cody, and a desperate one as well.”
“Aye,” said the scout gravely. “Desperate it was, indeed. But it must be made again. This ammunition I have brought you may last till morning; but the reds must be taken on the flank or they’ll hold you here till kingdom come!
“I’ll try to get through again, Major Baldwin. You must have help,” declared the Border King sternly.
CHAPTER III.
THE KING OF THE SIOUX.
Scarcely had Buffalo Bill uttered these cheering words when a babble of cries arose from the watchers on the towers and the platform over the gate. The redskins were gathering for a concerted charge, maddened by his escape and the loss of their ponies.
Saving a few chiefs, beside Oak Heart and the White Antelope none of the reds were mounted. However, they were so enraged now that they ignored the whites’ accuracy of aim and came on within rifle-shot of the stockade.
The ammunition brought on the packhorse led by the scout was hastily distributed among the defendants of the fort, with orders to throw no shot away. They were to shoot to kill, and Major Baldwin advised as did “Old Put” at the first great battle in United States history—the Battle of Bunker Hill—“to wait till they saw the whites of the enemies’ eyes!”