“Black Wing was a traitor,” he said, in answer to a question put by the king of scouts. “He would have sent the braves of Thunder Cloud to be massacred if the white friend of Thunder Cloud, he who is called Flag-pole Jack, had not taunted him with treachery and forced him to tell the truth.” “Black Wing was a fool to admit he was leading the Apaches into a trap,” said Buffalo Bill. “He was angry and reckless,” replied the Apache. “The white man has a cutting tongue, and he lashed Black Wing to fury. Then when the Apaches learned how they had been deceived, Black Wing was made to pay for his treachery.” The last words were spoken just above a whisper. In a few minutes the Apache was dead. “I must go on and rejoin Wild Bill,” said the king of scouts to Colonel Hayden, as the quartet walked away from the scene of death. “As for you and Miss Hayden, my advice is, go to the camping ground by the creek—the place is safe enough now—and stay there to-night. Alkali Pete here will go with you, and in the morning you can set out for civilization.” The lanky plainsman said nothing to this speech. But his homely face wore a look of keen disappointment. As he caught Sybil Hayden’s smiling glance he reddened, and attempted an explanation for his apparent exhibition of discourtesy. “I think, I shore do, that Buffler orter come with us. He’s got no call ter be buttin’ inter a squabble atween ther ’Paches an’ ther Comanches. Don’t ye see, Miss Hayden?” “Yes, I see,”—and the smile broadened. Then she added wickedly: “You wouldn’t go back and help Wild Bill and the Comanches, would you? An ox team couldn’t make you go. Am I right?” Alkali Pete gave a shamefaced look at the smiling girl, and then turned an appealing glance on Buffalo Bill. The colonel spoke at this juncture. “Your plan shows a good heart, Cody, but you forget that you are under my orders.” The king of scouts bit his lip. “That’s so,” he reluctantly admitted. “And what is your order?” “That you go with us and let Mr. Allen proceed to the castle.” The lanky plainsman’s eyes danced with pleasure. But the new arrangement was not carried out. Sybil Hayden vetoed it. “I have not had my say yet,” she declared, with an expression of determination on her pretty face. “You may all do as you please, but I am going back to the castle. I am interested in the squabble, as my friend, Mr. Allen, calls it. I want to be a looker-on in Venice. And, besides, I hope to induce you three husky men to come with me. Perhaps the end may come the sooner for your presence and assistance.” “But, Sybil, the danger,” expostulated her father. “You have had enough of harsh experience, I should imagine.” “No use talking, dad, I’m going to have my way. There is no great danger. There will be about twenty men against a dozen.” “You are talking strangely for a woman,” returned the colonel severely. “I am surprised at your conduct.”