“Bravo, bravo, Buffalo Bill! I owe my life to him—and Heaven knows I was never in closer quarters with death!” cried the officer, as he leaped up and drew his sword to further defend himself.
But the huge form lay still. The Mad Hunter lay unconscious. Therefore, turning to the opposite hill, he waved his hat, which he had picked up, to the horseman who was now spurring down into the valley. An answering yell from Buffalo Bill showed that he saw the officer was safe.
The rifle-shot and the shout of the Border King was unheard down there in the bigger valley; all this tragic happening had been in sight of the camp of the troopers, yet had chanced to go unnoticed. It was the scout who had come upon the scene in the nick of time, and who again had proved himself a hero.
With rapid bounds the scout urged his big white charger up the hill, from the shadows below to the twilight of the ridge summit. Finally he pulled up, threw himself from the saddle, and the officer caught his gauntleted hand.
“God bless you, Cody!”
“Captain Ed. Keyes!”
“Always in the right place at the right time, scout. Another minute, and that old madman would have sent me on my long journey, and no mistake!”
“I came blamed near being in the wrong place, captain,” said Cody seriously. “That was a long shot. I was taking great chances, and if you hadn’t flung yourself backward I should have scarcely risked firing at all.”
Then he turned to view the prostrate form of the madman, and said:
“It’s that crazy fellow they talk about, isn’t it?”