Buffalo Bill drew his six-shooter and speedily dropped three of the foremost Cave Dwellers. But the rest pressed on to the attack, and the blood brothers had to battle for their lives more desperately than either of them had ever done before, accustomed though they were to wild adventures. “The last shot, Red Cloud!” gasped Buffalo Bill, after a few moments of rapid firing, as he thrust his second six-shooter into his belt and drew his bowie knife. The Cave Dwellers, demoralized by the rapidity and accuracy of his aim, had retreated a few paces; but they were getting together again for another rush. The doom of the blood brothers seemed to be sealed. But just as the Indians rushed forward Wild Bill, Eagle Eye, Nick Wharton, and a couple of Navaho braves charged to the rescue round the ledge and into the cave. They met the Cave Dwellers with a volley of shots and drove them back into the recesses of the cavern. Realizing that their only chance of life was to cut their way out through their enemies, the savages soon rallied to the attack, and several minutes’ hard fighting followed. But Buffalo Bill’s party managed to hold the entrance until reënforcements came up, for Eagle Eye had left a couple of braves at the rope to draw up the rest. It was a fight to the death. The Cave Dwellers refused quarter, and in the end only three or four of them managed to escape down the zigzag path. Red Cloud and his warriors took many scalps that night, and there was much rejoicing in the Navaho village on their return, for they had not lost more than half a dozen braves in the fight and had utterly annihilated their troublesome neighbors. Buffalo Bill had escaped from one of the fiercest fights in his experience without a scratch, and Wild Bill and Nick Wharton were also unwounded. CHAPTER XIII. A TERRIBLE FATE. On the night following the fight with the Cave Dwellers, a feast was held in the village of the Navahos to celebrate the great victory they had gained. The Indian braves and their three paleface brethren gathered closely around the camp fire after the feasting was over. The warriors told stories and legends of their tribe and indulged in wrestling and other sports, in all of which they showed great skill. Buffalo Bill and his friends noticed that in the wrestling a tall and truculent-looking warrior named Leaping Dog overcame the other braves with ease. He threw one of them after another with scarcely an effort, until at last he could find none willing to meet him. Then he turned to the white men, insolent with his triumph, and cried: “Will you wrestle with me, palefaces? I will wager my tomahawk that there is none of you who can throw me.” “Remember that the white chiefs are guests in our lodges, Leaping Dog,” said Red Cloud, in a reproving voice. “It is not seemly to challenge them thus.”