That was a long and wearing ride for May Arlington; it taxed her strength to the utmost.
To be hurried forward through the gloom of night surrounded by feathered Indians who are on the warpath, having for a companion a white man whose actions had been brutal and seemed to be treacherous, was a situation about as bad as can be conceived.
Yet May Arlington tried to endure it without a murmur, and even tried to cherish hope, and to think of some plan herself whereby a release might be brought about.
When daylight came the Indians were still in motion, and the girl was almost ready to drop from her saddle.
Some time afterward the Cheyennes sighted a horseman, and contrived to get out of sight in a big “draw” without being seen by him.
The horseman was Wild Bill.
When he came near enough they charged him, and a sharp fight ensued. Two of the Indians were killed and another wounded; and then Wild Bill was at their mercy.
It was the fight and the capture which Buffalo Bill saw in the sky mirror.
The Indians in their rage and revenge would have slain Wild Bill, but they recognized him as a scout and one of the pards of the dreaded Long Hair, as Buffalo Bill was known to them. Therefore, instead of killing him outright, they simply brandished their weapons about his head in efforts to frighten him, and reserved him for a more horrible fate later.
Long before this time Lieutenant Barlow had apparently set up amicable relations with the Cheyennes. Even the exhausted and alarmed girl noticed it. He was not treated as a prisoner, but more as if he were one of them. Red Wing rode much of the time at his side, and conversed with him, sometimes in Cheyenne, a language with which he was familiar, strangely familiar it seemed to May Arlington.