“I reckon we must have killed at least two hundred of them around the walls of the fort,” said the colonel, clasping him warmly by the hand. “How many did you get in the pursuit?” “Fifty or sixty, as nearly as I can figure it,” replied the border king. It was a great victory, and it had been bought at a comparatively trifling cost. Only about a dozen of the defenders had been killed, most of them during the pursuit, and not more than twenty were wounded. “Do you suppose the redskins have had enough?” asked the colonel. “No, I don’t,” Buffalo Bill said. “Of course, this is a galling repulse for them, but all three of the tribes are brave and persevering in warfare, especially the Sioux. This defeat will merely enrage them and make them all the more anxious to have revenge on Uncle Sam’s troopers.” Wild Bill rode at this moment to the two men as they stood talking. He was mounted on one of the swiftest horses in the fort, and he led another splendid animal, which he offered to Buffalo Bill. “These are the best beasts I could pick out of the bunch, Buffler,” he said. Buffalo Bill mounted without a word, and offered his hand to the colonel. “Where are you going?” asked the astonished officer. “Where else but to Fort Hays,” said Buffalo Bill. “We had arranged to ride there as soon as it was dark, and if you will hand us the dispatch we will get off at once.” “But the country is full of the fleeing Indians,” the colonel objected, “and there is not one chance in ten thousand of your getting through. It is sheer madness to attempt to ride under these new conditions.” The border king laughed lightly, and said: “We are still waiting for that dispatch, colonel.” The officer looked at him steadily for a moment, and saw that argument would be useless. Nothing would turn the gallant and famous scout from his heroic purpose. Nor was Wild Bill one whit less resolute. Without another word, the colonel took the dispatch from his pocket and handed it to Buffalo Bill. Then he shook the two scouts by the hand, and a minute later they were galloping away in the direction of Fort Hays. CHAPTER V. WHARTON IN PERIL. Buffalo Bill and his partner rode along swiftly and silently for about half an hour, and saw no traces of the redskins. Then, as they slackened their pace for a moment to breathe the horses, Wild Bill said: “Gosh all hemlocks, Buffler----” Buffalo Bill turned in the saddle and interrupted him. “That’s Nick Wharton’s expression,” he said, “and I know what you are going to say. You wish that old Nick was with us now, joining in the fun. This certainly would be an adventure after his own heart.” “I guess he’ll be buttin’ into it before we get through,” Wild Bill remarked. “He was away at Fort Leavenworth a couple of weeks ago, so I heard, and he must have known we were around this yer section. I wouldn’t be surprised to run across him any moment.”