As he halted about twenty yards outside the fort, Buffalo Bill could see at a glance that he was a white man, although he was dressed in the paint and feathers of a Sioux chieftain. His two companions were redskins, one being a Cheyenne and the other a Crow. Thus the three tribes which had entered into a confederacy were represented under the flag of truce. “That’s the renegade Irishman, sure enough!” said Buffalo Bill to the colonel, who nodded agreement. Kennelly, the renegade, otherwise known as Bad Eye, reined up his horse and shouted, in English: “We want to come inside the fort to discuss terms of surrender with you.” “This fort will never surrender while I am in command,” the colonel answered, “and we will hold no talk with renegades and murderers. Go back to your redskin allies at once, unless you want a bullet through your head!” The renegade had expected this answer, but he had had a lingering hope that he might have been allowed inside the fort on the pretense of discussing terms of surrender, and then he would have been able to gain some valuable information as to the number of the garrison and the strength of the defenses. His disappointment showed plainly in the vicious grin which flitted for a moment over his evil face. His left eye, which had a squint, glared horribly. It was this defect that had gained for him his Sioux name, Bad Eye. He shook the rein of his horse, and tried to urge the animal right underneath the wall of the fort; but before it had advanced three steps a bullet from Buffalo Bill’s rifle cut a feather from the headdress of the rider. As Kennelly hastily reined his horse back, Buffalo Bill sang out: “The next bullet will go through your head, Bad Eye, unless you clear out at once. The white flag was never meant to protect such scoundrels as you are.” Seeing that nothing further was to be gained, the three men turned their horses and rode back to the ranks of the Indians. Before he departed, however, the representative of the Cheyennes drew his scalping knife, and sent it hurtling through the air at the log wall of the fort, where it stuck, quivering. Then he raised his arm and uttered a defiant war cry. One of the soldiers lifted his rifle to shoot the brave, but Buffalo Bill struck the weapon upward before the man could fire. “He has a right to defy us,” said the border king, “and he is a brave man. We won’t shoot him under the white flag, even if he is a redskin.” No sooner had the three envoys retreated than the Indians began their attack. True to their natural instincts, they were cautious at first, beginning by long-range firing. Some of them dashed toward the walls of the fort on horseback, circling around and lying down in the saddle to avoid presenting an easy mark. They fired their rifles, and then retreated hastily. But the greater portion of the Indian army dismounted and advanced to the attack on foot, taking advantage of every bit of cover they could find.