Quickly following the report, a heavy body fell from the tree, striking the ground with a thud. “That was not the girl,” said Buffalo Bill to himself, with positiveness. Then he called out in a thrilling whisper: “Miss Hayden—where are you?” “In the tree,” was the answer given in a shaking voice. “I—I can’t get down.” “Are you hurt?”—anxiously. “No, but—I am stuck.” The king of scouts struck a match, and, stepping forward, looked at the body that had fallen from the tree. It was that of Shorty Sands, and the outlaw was stone-dead. Climbing into the tree, Buffalo Bill found that Sybil Hayden’s form had become wedged between two limbs. By using all his strength he was able to bend back one of the limbs so that the girl could move out. When both were on the ground she told her story. She had climbed into the tree, and was between the limbs when she heard a movement above her. Looking up, she saw the dim outlines of a man’s form, and immediately gave utterance to the scream that was heard at the front of the castle. Next she tried to leave the tree, but found to her terror that she could not move. A hissing whisper caused her to stifle a second scream. “If you yell again, I’ll cut your heart out.” Up to this time she had not thought of the pistol she carried. It was in her bosom, and she took it out just as the outlaw was about to swing himself to a limb opposite to her. As his feet touched the limb she fired. “Did I kill him?” she whispered faintly. “I couldn’t have made a better shot if I had been in your place,” the scout answered. “He’s dead, all right, and a good riddance to bad rubbish.” They were on their way back to Wild Bill and the Comanches when they heard a groan. It emanated from some person not many feet from them. “Who is it?” whispered Buffalo Bill, while Sybil Hayden clutched his arm tightly. “Hayden,” was the hoarse reply. “I ran against a root, and fell and hurt my head. Is Sybil safe?” “Yes, father,” the girl answered, as she ran forward and knelt beside the colonel. “I am without a scratch.” At this moment a wild commotion arose in the valley, not one hundred yards away. The air was pierced with shots and yells, and it was evident that a fierce fight was in progress. It was over when the king of scouts reached the open space beyond the grove of trees. The Apaches who had planned to bushwhack the Comanches had themselves met with a surprise. Of the band that had stolen silently up the valley, but three escaped, and these were never again seen in the Hualapi Mountains. But one Comanche was killed. Buffalo Bill was not surprised to hear that Alkali Pete had done his share in the work of extermination. The lanky plainsman had exposed himself more than once, but he seemed to bear a charmed life, and had come out of the fight without a wound.