The Indian smiled, and replied with a brief eulogy upon his own greatness, of which Joe could understand but little except the drift, but he nodded gravely at the end of each sentence, and repeated: “Great chiefy.” But the potent leader did not deport himself like one at liberty to do all that he pleased. He looked carefully on either side of him, and particularly in the direction in which Black Panther had vanished, and then informed Congo that he would meet his brother in one of the remote wigwams, which he pointed out to him. “Him go; I come,” he said. “An’ bring Cap’n Bully Boy?” asked the negro. “Yes, me bring um.” Joe returned with this message, being careful to keep his eye on the lodge which had been named as the rendezvous, and Buffalo Bill, with hopes slightly revived, was soon on his way thither, accompanied by the negro, and regardless of the renewed entreaties of Captain Meinhold to embark, and of the threats of some of the party that they would seize the boats and go without him. He went saunteringly, so as not to attract attention, and when he was sure that he was unwatched, unless by Running Water, he entered the deserted cabin, and from its one open window looked anxiously forth for the approach of the two men to whom this his last appeal was to be made. The fact that this was his last hope, and that if it failed his young friend and companion would in a few minutes be in the hands of his tormentors and executioners made him exceedingly nervous. At one moment he thought that he was foolishly persistent and that, so far from there being any prospect of success, he was only risking his own life and that of his other comrades and the safety of the women by his importunities. But at the next there seemed a little ground for hope, and he could not bear to abandon it. Running Water and Bulboo soon came, the latter evidently wondering and looking by no means mild and benignant. Yet if his war paint had been washed off, perhaps all his fierceness of expression would have gone with it. He was a young man, scarcely past thirty years, tall and slim, and clad in a kirtle of deerskin, which extended to his knees, and which, with his leggings and moccasins, constituted his only apparel. Two dried claws of the grizzly bear, fastened by a leathern string around his neck, rested like epaulets upon his shoulders, and were the badge of his rank as a brave, he having killed the monster whose trophies he thus wore. Buffalo Bill opened the conference by frankly informing Running Water of his designs, and, by way of making his meaning clear, he exhibited the pictures he had drawn, which at once enlisted the curiosity and excited the admiration of the savages. Bulboo at once recognized the portraits of himself, for the figure and dress were sufficient to individualize it, and he seemed much pleased with it as a work of art before he comprehended the object for which it had been drawn.