In a minute Cody came up again for air. With a yell Bennett sighted him. The scout was this time much nearer the shore—and he was much nearer his last gasp than before, too! Crossing the river he had found all the task promised from the other side. It was not only a long swim, but it was an arduous swim.
“I’ve got you now, Bill Cody!” roared the bandit, shaking his fists above his head in an abandonment of rage. “I’ve got you now!”
Had Buffalo Bill had breath to do so he might have told him that the river had a bigger mortgage on him. The current was pulling him down-stream with a power that taxed his utmost strength to counteract.
“You’re my meat!” bawled Bennett. “Let me get my hands on you, you hell-hound!”
Cody bore all this in silence. He was struggling to gain a foothold near the shore. Once his feet found bottom, but then the current tore him away and he had to fight to get back. Bennett ran along the shore and stood over him, his face aflame, his eyes blazing like coals, his lips fairly frothing.
Cody finally made the shallow again and stood upon his feet. That was a blessed relief! He was head and shoulders out of the water, and now he took the knife from between his teeth and held it clutched firmly in his right hand.
“I’ve got you!” bawled Bennett, fairly dancing up and down on the shore. “Come ashore and I’ll have your scalp! I’ll cut your heart out! I’ll slice you into cat’s meat! And if you don’t come ashore the river will get you. Ha! ha! ha! Bill Cody is between the devil and the deep sea this time!”
And the scout thought that this was a pretty true statement of the case. For, if ever there was a fiend incarnate, it was Bennett at this juncture. And the river was as wicked and dangerous as the sea could possibly be. The scout was indeed between two perils—and neither would give him a chance for his life.
The moment he waded within striking distance Bennett would attack him. And the river dragged at him continually.
But, at least, the scout could parley. He had breath enough to say: