The other Indians were riding wildly through the darkness, as could be told by the thunder of hoofs. The Cheyenne party had been suddenly split open as if it had been struck by a tornado. And all by the reckless daring of one white man, who seemed able, in his yelling and shooting, to make as much noise as if there were a dozen men about to charge!
The rein of rawhide which Buffalo Bill held was jerked from his hand; but he shouted to the girl, now in English, telling her to follow, and to keep close by him.
Her horse stumbled; and the scout stopped and again got hold of the rein.
The darkness caused indescribable confusion.
“This way!” Buffalo Bill yelled to his pard, again in Blackfoot.
Wild Bill shouted back; and they tore thus through the crowding and scrambling mob of frightened Indians, who fell apart, thus giving a free passage.
The darkness had grown so dense that they could see nothing clearly; but when they had ridden two or three hundred yards in that wild way they drew rein, the horses panting.
“All right?” asked the scout.
“All right here,” Wild Bill answered.
“Are you all right, Miss Arlington?” the scout asked.