“Well, as you will not live to see if I do, you must take my word for it. After I have got possession of her fortune, for she has one the judge knows nothing about, she, too, will die of the same disease that killed Kate Colvin—namely, poison!”
“Devil! If you don’t kill me, and I ever have you in my power I will carry you to old Rain-in-the-face and have his warriors torture you to death.”
Then, with a cry more like an enraged beast than a human being, and reckless of consequences, Buffalo Bill sprang from the grave toward his foe. The flash and report of Kent King’s revolver followed; but, taken so thoroughly by surprise, he missed his aim.
A second shot, as he ran backward, struck Buffalo Bill in the arm and turned him half around. Maddened now, it did not check the scout. The third, fourth, and fifth chambers of the weapon missed fire. A yell of triumph broke from Buffalo Bill as he still pressed his enemy, who steadily retreated before him.
But the yell was answered by a score of war whoops, and through the timber came dashing a number of painted savages. Buffalo Bill saw that it would be madness to press his attack on Kent King, unarmed as he was. Turning quickly, he sprang across the open grave, and, seizing his weapons, started in flight, at the same time calling for Midnight, whom he had left in a thicket near by.
An answering neigh was heard, and the noble horse came at a run, the reins and stirrups flapping wildly. Kent King, who had not fled at sight of the redskins, called out:
“There’s your game, men! A thousand dollars for his scalp.”
With wild yells they started in pursuit; but the scout had already reached his horse, was in the saddle, and had unslung his rifle from the horn and brought it to his shoulder.