Before he could discharge the shaft, Buffalo Bill tumbled him over into the water with a bullet through his breast. The other Nez Perce gave a yell of alarm and paddled swiftly for the shelter of the bank. Before he could reach it, however, he, too, fell a victim to the deadly rifle of the king of the scouts. Cody had no wish that the man should escape and bring a horde of his companions down upon him. Putting down his rifle, Buffalo Bill paddled on. He soon got into broken water, which suggested that he was approaching some rapids. The strength and roughness of the stream rapidly increased, and just as the scout was thinking that it would soon be advisable to paddle in to the bank and make a portage with the canoe, a new and serious danger confronted him. Just behind him, over toward the left, he heard a chorus of loud and angry yells. Recognizing the war cry of the Nez Perces, he looked over his shoulder, and saw a large canoe shoot out from the cover of some low-growing bushes. It was filled by six stalwart Indians, and their powerful arms made the craft shoot toward Buffalo Bill’s canoe at terrific speed. The border king paddled as hard as he could, but escape in that way was out of the question. The Indians did not seem to want to kill him. They were intent upon making him a prisoner. With every stroke of the paddle, it became more and more apparent that some dangerous rapids were being neared. But neither Buffalo Bill nor his pursuers, in the excitement of the chase, took much heed of that fact. Cody thought of stopping and fighting it out, but the Indians were so close that he knew he could only kill two or three of them before the rest settled with him. Therefore, when they had almost drawn alongside, he cast a swift glance around and decided that his only chance was to take to the water and swim to the other bank, where he might find cover and escape. As he looked round he saw that the man in the bow of the Indians’ canoe was none other than Yellow Plume, the chief of the Nez Perces; and he determined that he would take any risk rather than fall into his hands as a prisoner. Suddenly, to the intense amazement of the redskins, Buffalo Bill flung down his paddle and slipped over the side of the canoe farthest from them. With a yell of hate, Yellow Plume leaped to his feet and, bending his bow, let drive full at the scout. But with the quickness of thought Buffalo Bill dived ere the shaft could reach him, and, drawing his bowie, slashed fiercely at the bottom of the savages’ frail craft as it swept past him. Still keeping under water, he swam to the bank and pulled himself up under cover of a weeping willow that grew right down into the stream. Peering through the branches, he saw that the Nez Perces had come to grief. Their canoe had speedily filled with water and sunk.