Putting spurs to his horse, he dashed away, to find upon his arrival at the stockade that the coast was not wholly clear, for Percy la Clyde was sitting by the side of Sibyl Conrad.
With a smothered curse, Howard Lawrence turned away, and the next moment met Ruth Whitfield with one of his sweetest smiles.
“Well, Mr. Lawrence, one of your rivals has just gone,” said Ruth, with a malicious smile.
“True, and left another even more dangerous; but it is Buffalo Bill that I fear most. He has such a way of upsetting plots and schemes. If he were dead, I should feel happier and safer.”
“You wouldn’t harm him, would you?” she asked, noting the deadly flash of his eyes.
“Leave that to me; he shall be captured and taken to a distant tribe of Indians, whom I know well, and held there where he can’t interfere with any of my plans.”
He spoke as if such a matter would be easy of accomplishment.
“She will not marry you, if she hears of the trick!”
It will be seen that Ruth Whitfield had in some strange manner fallen under this man’s deadly influence, which was something like that of a hypnotist.
“Well, I am playing a deep game,” he answered, “but I will win. I can lie to Sibyl, and say that an Indian killed the scout.”