It was hard work, with only his feet to aid his efforts, and, retarded as he was by his clothing and the lariat, but he made it at last, and under the shelter of the overhanging hill had just sat down to rest, smiling grimly at his escape, when round the point shot Buffalo Bill, swimming with tremendous strokes.
The hunted man uttered a cry of alarm, and, springing to his feet, darted away at great speed.
But the scout had always been noted for his fleetness on foot, and he bounded along at a pace that overhauled the outlaw, who was hampered, too, by his bound arms and the dragging lariat.
Seeing that Buffalo Bill was gaining upon him, he finally came to a halt, and sang out lustily:
“Don’t shoot me!”
“I have nothing to shoot you with, but I’ve a notion to drown you,” answered Bill Cody, as he laid no light hand upon the other’s shoulder.
“Don’t do it, Bill, for ’twan’t no fault o’ mine. Yer see, my foot slipped when I turned round ter speak ter you, an’ when I found myself free, I concluded I’d try an’ stay so.”
“As a scientific liar, Sam, you are ’way up; but, come, no funny business, but go!”
There was nothing for the outlaw to do but to obey, and he did that promptly, taking a route that soon brought them to where the faithful horse was standing guard most patiently in the spot where his master had left him.