“Of course, the tribe would punish him with death if he stuck a knife into any one of us, but when an Indian sees blood he isn’t going to stop out of fear of the consequences. We must take turns at keeping watch to-night. “By the way, don’t you think he is as likely to stab Red Cloud as any one of us? Remember how the chief treated him in front of all the other braves. That must have been a bitter pill for him to swallow.” “Let us go to Silver Fox’s lodge and warn Red Cloud to be on his guard,” said Wild Bill. “I know which lodge it is. It’s only about a hundred yards down the line of tepees.” His companions agreed, and they all stepped out into the cold, biting night air. Buffalo Bill took the precaution to pick up his revolver before he sallied forth. As they came in sight of the medicine lodge they saw a figure outside it. Before they could get near enough to recognize the man, the latter lifted the buffalo robe that hung over the door of the lodge, and passed inside. “Come on!” said Cody, in a hoarse whisper, to his friends. “If that is Leaping Dog he may do his work before we can stop him.” He ran toward the lodge at the top of his speed, but before he could reach it a frightful scream rang out--a cry far worse than any death yell he had ever heard. It froze his blood with horror, and for a moment he stood still--aghast. Then he rushed forward, expecting to find the dead body of the young chief of the Navahos. He tore aside the flap of the tent, but the sight which met his eyes was very different from that which he had expected. Red Cloud was rising to his feet from his blanket, tomahawk in hand, but there was no foe for him to strike. Buffalo Bill let the hand which grasped his revolver fall to his side, for he saw that the body of Leaping Dog was lying in a twisted and huddled heap on the floor. The aged medicine man was towering over him, with his right arm outstretched, and his finger pointing down at the prostrate figure. He looked as stern as an avenging angel. Fire seemed to flash from his eyes, and his frail form shook like an aspen leaf with the intensity of his passion. Buffalo Bill bent down, and saw at a glance that Leaping Dog was dead. There was a look of unfathomable terror in his eyes, and his body was twisted like the trunk of a blasted tree. “He is dead,” said the border king. “You don’t want your tomahawk, Red Cloud. But how did he die, Silver Fox?” “The dog was smitten by the wrath of the Great Manitou,” replied the old medicine man cautiously. “So we see. But that wrath came through the medium of the Great Spirit’s servant, Silver Fox, I suppose. How did you do it?”