“That’s the way white brothers and sisters greet each other,” he said, with a weak laugh. “When can you get us away from this camp, Cody?”
That was a question easier to be asked than answered. But the excitement over the letting of Cody himself go free aided them in their attempt. The chiefs were murmuring against the decision of Oak Heart. The old man was fighting for his supremacy as head chief of the tribe. He could not even see the White Antelope, and shut her out of his lodge.
This piqued the wayward girl. She was the more ready to go with her new-found brother, as he was ill and needed her. But she only agreed to go with him to Fort Resistence and then directly return. But Dick Danforth said confidently:
“Let me once get her away from the influence of these bloody redskins, and I’ll wean her away from them. I know what will please a young girl like her. I’ll take her to San Francisco, Bill. Thanks to you, I’ve some property of my own left of my poor father’s estate. And isn’t she a beauty! Won’t she make ’em sit up and take notice at the Bay?”
Under cover of the night the scout and the Indian maid helped the wounded Danforth upon a horse, and the three wended their way from the encampment. They were not followed—or, at least, were not overtaken—until they reached Captain Keyes’ command. Then they were hurried on under an escort to Resistence. White Antelope made no objection to going, her brother was so weak and needed her so much.
Indeed, the wily young fellow remained an invalid so long that his sister became half-reconciled to civilized clothing and to white people before they took the long journey to San Francisco, where Dick went to spend the furlough allowed him by the department.
The scene changes once more to Fort Advance, some days after that on which Buffalo Bill, the Border King, had set out on his dangerous mission to the village of the Sioux. It is a little past sunrise, and a horseman is descried taking the trail from the cañon toward the fort. He is mounted on a great white charger that comes like the wind.
The rider looks pale and jaded, and his buckskin attire has seen hard usage. But he is recognized by the sentinel over the gate, and his cry is repeated about the fort:
“Here comes Buffalo Bill, the King of the Border!”