“Use it on myself in case of failure in the lines. It will save me from the stake. Otherwise, they may as well burn me first as last, and I will at least escape the additional torture of running the gantlet.” The unfortunate man had begged repeatedly for the weapon before, when his friends visited him, and they had refused to give it to him. But, as he now seemed resolute in his present determination, Captain Meinhold promised to give it to him, on his word of honor that he would not make use of it except in the last extremity--not until the fagots around him were fired, or some equivalent torture was begun. Buffalo Bill, Meinhold, and the other men had debated long and earnestly together as to the course they should take if things came to the worst with Hare; and they had found it very hard to arrive at a decision. Their natural impulse, being all brave men, was to die in his defense, ineffectual as a fight would undoubtedly be. But they had to think first of the women in the party. If necessary, Hare must be sacrificed for their sake. In the event of a fight, the chances were a hundred to one that they would spend their lives as the squaws of Indian braves. Captain Meinhold exhorted Hare to do his best in running the gantlet, reminding him that there was a chance of escape if he was vigilant and active. “Well, captain, I will try,” the doomed man replied. “I will do my best, if I have this pistol as a last resort.” “You shall have it.” “How am I to get it?” “It is in my pocket. I will find an opportunity, in a few minutes, to give it to you when these men are not looking. Then you can take it up and secrete it about you. As you have already been searched, they will probably not trouble to look you over again.” Hare was supplied with an early and good breakfast--a repast which he would have enjoyed but for the doom which awaited him, and which was now so close at hand. As it was, he ate pretty heartily, and while he was doing so the captain succeeded in giving him the pistol unobserved. The rest of the white men and Congo breakfasted, as they had supped, unobserved. The women of the party were served, by the orders of Running Water, by the women of the tribe. Breakfast was over in the chief’s tepee about sunrise, and still earlier in the other lodges, so that when Running Water and his guests went forth, the bustle of preparations for the great event of the day was everywhere to be seen. The women were running in and out of each other’s lodges, clamorous and merry. The children were playing heartily, with whoop and shout, for they were anticipating a gala day as inspiriting to them as the Fourth of July to our own boys. Here and there, a brave, with his war paint on, might be seen hurrying about the village with all the important air of a militia officer on training day. Outside of the village, on the edge of the timber, two rows of larger boys and girls were playing a mimic game of running the gantlet.