A flush stole over the pale face of Howard Lawrence, and he was silent.
“Whether you know that Ricardo, the chief of the Branded Brotherhood, was your father,” said the scout, “or whether you are ignorant of it, I am not assured, but such is the case, and you are a fit son for such a father, for under numerous disguises you have led a most villainous life.
“You have brought ruin and death upon more than one household, and were plotting the ruin of Rose Carter, and also Sibyl Conrad, after having won the affection of yonder beautiful Indian girl, only in the end to tire of her, after she had given up all for you, and cruelly desert her to her fate.”
The scout turned and pointed toward Red Bud, who at that moment rode up, and in silence gazed upon the two.
“You have, then, become the champion of all the redskin and paleface girls on the border?” sneeringly replied Howard Lawrence.
Casting aside the noose, young Lawrence flashed out a knife and attacked the scout with great fury. But Buffalo Bill met him with steel, and the blades flashed in the sunlight like a circle of fire.
Both were men of splendid physique, and were noted for their strength, agility, and courage, and therefore the duel between them was one of deadly ferocity.
For many long moments in breathless suspense Red Bud of the Forest, the poor, trusting, loving, but deserted squaw, watched the terrible encounter.
Then her eyes gleamed with joy as she saw Buffalo Bill spring within the guard of his enemy and once, twice, thrice drive his gleaming blade into his bosom.
With a half-uttered cry, Howard Lawrence sank to the ground, a dead man.