“Mr. Doyle, what I am going to say to you will no doubt sound extraordinary and impertinent, but it is prompted by my knowledge of this country.” “Whatever it is, I am sure it will be well meant, Colonel Cody,” remarked the ex-senator, looking puzzled. “Well, then, it is this: When your wagon is repaired you would, in my opinion, be well advised to turn back east, instead of trying to cross the great plains at present. If I were in your position I would wait for a few months at least before trying to reach California by the overland route.” Mr. Doyle and his daughters looked very much surprised at this remark. A shadow of annoyance crossed the old man’s face, as if he thought an unwarrantable liberty was being taken with him and his plans, but it passed almost as quickly as it came, and he turned to the king of the scouts and said: “What you have just told me, Colonel Cody, is certainly rather strange, but I am sure you must have some good reason for saying it.” “I have,” replied the border king. “The great plains are very unsafe for wagon teams at present--more unsafe, I think, than they have ever been before in my experience.” Mr. Doyle looked surprised. “I was assured by the officials of the War Department in Washington that the soldiers at the various posts in this territory had the Indians under complete control,” he said. Buffalo Bill smiled. “What they don’t know about this part of the country in Washington would fill a big book,” he retorted. “The troops do their best--they do wonderfully, indeed. But they can’t be everywhere at once. Sometimes they are too late to protect, and can only avenge.” The old man looked grave, but at the same time obstinate. He had made his plans, and he was not of the kind to give them up readily. “Of course, I know that there is always a certain amount of risk on the overland route,” he said. “That must be taken for granted. We have reckoned it in the plans we have made, and the girls are not at all afraid, I can assure you.” “Indeed we are not, father!” exclaimed May, glancing at Buffalo Bill with some indignation. “What is the special danger at present?” the old man asked. “It is twofold: The Shawnee Indians, under their chief, Evil Heart, are in a very ugly mood toward the whites, and there is a band of outlaws calling themselves Death Riders who have held up several wagon trains during the past few months, and even ventured to raid some of the settlements.” “The Death Riders!” exclaimed the old man. “It is an ominous name.” “And it fits them well,” returned Cody. “They show mercy to none who fall into their power. They are the worst gang of outlaws who ever cursed the West in all my experience.” CHAPTER XVI. THE DEATH RIDERS. “Have you met these Death Riders?” asked Mr. Doyle, after a brief silence produced by the impressive manner in which Buffalo Bill had spoken. “Have you had any personal experience with them?”