Quickly the cry of the guards was taken up. Then through the entire encampment resounded the notes of joy. When the party rode up, a ringing welcome awaited them, and their friends gathered around in delight at their return.
Instantly Sibyl was folded in the arms of her parents, and warm grasps met the hand of Howard Lawrence, who, in a few words, told of their brave rescue at the hands of the army scout.
“You are, then, Buffalo Bill?” said Major Conrad, advancing quickly and gazing intently into the face of the man before him, and upon whom every eye was now turned with admiration, for his wonderful career was known far and wide.
“I am called Buffalo Bill, sir,” was the quiet reply, “and I am glad to have saved your daughter, Major Conrad; but, can I ask, as I learn you are destined for the headwaters of the Republican, why I find you bearing so much out of your way to the southward?”
The scout spoke modestly, and as if anxious to turn the conversation from himself.
“We are under the guidance of an experienced plainsman, sir. Yonder he comes, now,” replied Major Conrad.
The scout turned around at the words of the officer and glanced in the direction of the coming man.
It was the hunter and the guide of the train—a man of almost giant frame, attired in a suit of buckskin, and with a face scarred in such a manner by a knife cut across the nose and cheek as to give it a most forbidding expression.
One glance at the hunter, and Buffalo Bill exclaimed: