But the thought of the danger to which May and Gertrude would be exposed worried him greatly. He was only too familiar with the tortures which the Indians were accustomed to inflict upon helpless women or any other white captives who might chance to fall into their hands. Yet it was evidently hopeless to try to induce Mr. Doyle to change his opinion and abandon his journey. The border king was a good reader of faces and of character, and he could see quite clearly that there was a strain of obstinacy in the old man’s nature which would make him reject the best advice if it did not happen to coincide with his preconceived opinions. “How many men have you with your wagon train?” asked the scout. “There are four of them, not counting Norfolk Ben,” replied the old man. “What sort of men are they?” “They are all old frontiersmen, who have been many journeys on the overland trail.” “Who is their boss?” “An old man named Jake Wallace.” “Jake Wallace! I know him well. He and I have hunted on the plains together more than once. What did he say to you when you proposed to make the trip at the present time?” Mr. Doyle hesitated for a moment, for this question had struck home to him. “I must confess that he took very much the same view that you do, Colonel Cody,” he finally said. “He told me that it was his business to guide parties across the plains, and that he liked to get all the jobs he could. But he added that he could not reconcile it with his conscience to let me go along with my daughters without giving me a warning. “He did not tell me what you have said about the Shawnees and the Death Riders, but he gave me to understand that the territory was particularly disturbed and dangerous just now.” “And in face of that--in face of these two warnings you have received from men who are in a position to know--you will persist in this mad journey!” cried Buffalo Bill, rising to his feet and facing the old man, with a look of anger on his face. Mr. Doyle and the others looked at him in surprise, so carried beyond himself was he by his indignation at the thought of the peril to which the girls might be recklessly and needlessly exposed. May and Gertrude were quick to reply to him. They were both angry at what they thought was an insult to their father. “You are surely forgetting yourself, Colonel Cody!” cried May. “My father is quite able to judge what is best. He is quite able to take care of us. I know you are experienced in regard to these matters, but I think you are exaggerating the danger. In any case, if we have decided to go on we will go on in spite of all your Shawnees and outlaws.” Gertrude was briefer in her retort, but certainly not less explicit. “I think you are just horrid, Colonel Cody!” she cried. Then she got up from the table and swept indignantly out of the room, followed by her sister. Their father looked after the two girls quizzically as they went out.