He had been left clad in the garments in which he had run his race, with the exception of his hat, which was off, and Congo could plainly see the stock of his pistol slightly protruding from his pocket, as if he had partly drawn it out, but feared to use it. His hand wandered irresolutely toward it now and then, and as it seemed that his sufferings and dread must nerve him to a speedy use of this effectual means of escaping the malice of his enemies, Joe hastily tried to attract his attention without drawing upon himself the observation of the savage crowd. He drew from his pocket a yellow cotton kerchief, and waved it toward him; but, failing to accomplish his object in this way, and seeing that his hand again sought his pistol and rested with firm grasp upon the protruding stock, he shouted desperately to him, heedless of the danger which he was drawing upon himself. “Massa Hare, Massa Hare!” he cried. “Hold on, dar! Don’t shoot yourself! Dey’se comin’ to save you yit!” Probably little or nothing of this was understood by the prisoner, but he heard the negro’s voice, and, following the eyes of the crowd who turned like one man to look at the intruder, saw him still waving his yellow flag. Great confusion ensued, many of the savages believing that the black “medicine man” was performing some incantation to save the life of his friend, and others, less superstitious, aiming guns and arrows at him, seemingly by direction of the irate Black Panther, whose shouted orders sounded over the field. The vigilant Joe, seeing his danger, leaped to the ground and ran to meet Buffalo Bill, who was now close at hand, followed at a little distance by the chief and Bulboo, who had also quickened their speed and were fast coming up. “Stop, Massa Cody! Stop! An’ let’s git behind de chief an’ Cap’n Bully Boy!” exclaimed the frightened Joe. “Or dey’ll shoot us bofe, just as sure as a gun.” Cody complied with this prudent request, for many of the Indians were rushing toward them. Running Water waved them back with an authoritative gesture of his hand, and, placing himself in front of the imperiled men, bade them sit down on the grass and keep quite still. “Is he alive?” asked Cody, in a whisper, as he complied with this order, for his solicitude for Hare still outweighed his sense of personal danger. “Yes, massa, but he got de pistol in his hand, and I expect to hear it go off every minute.” “No--you’ve effected a diversion, for the present, I guess.” “I don’t t’ink it’s very diverting, massa,” replied the trembling negro. “See how mad dey is.” “They won’t come any nearer. See, the chief is speaking to them, and Bulboo stands close at his side to show that he agrees with him.” “What does he say?” “He is only telling them to be quiet, I believe, and to send Black Panther to him. At least, I judge so by his gestures, and his frequent mention of the orator’s name.”