When Buffalo Bill drew near the cabin door something in his gait appeared to excite the suspicion of the guard.
“Why—that you, Ned? What in thunder ye comin’——”
He was not given time to say more, nor to lift his rifle, which he had dropped to the hollow of his arm.
With a leap as light as that of a panther Buffalo Bill was at his side, and the heavy blanket was over the sentinel’s head. At the same instant the scout drove his heavy fist into the sentinel’s face with such force that he was knocked insensible.
Fortunately the muffling blanket kept the heavy blow from being heard in the cabin, but, unfortunately, as the sentinel fell, he swung backward and struck his arm against the door, making a sound somewhat like the thump of a heavy fist of a rough man who imperatively demands entrance.
The door against which the sentinel had struck his arm—there were two doors on that side of the cabin, showing that it was divided into two rooms—was swung almost instantly open, and a man stood before scout.
Behind him was another man, and behind this man the form of a girl—the girl being, as Buffalo Bill guessed, Rose Carter.
The sentinel lay limp in Buffalo Bill’s arms, his face upturned, for the scout had jerked away the hooded blanket.
“What’s up?” the man asked, in a curious voice.
Without hesitation, Buffalo Bill answered: