“Holmes will not stay all night among the rocks down there,” he said. “He may start on before dark, though my opinion is that he won’t unless he should see us coming down the hill toward him. He is probably facing the hill now, on the watch for us. As he will not get a glimpse of us during daylight, he will conclude that we have not been able to make fast time in the pursuit.” “I wish the darkness would hurry up and come,” said Carl Henson, in fierce impatience. “I am worried about Miss Wilton.” “She is in no present danger,” replied the scout. The sun was setting. Its rays illuminated and brought into bold relief a long peak that stood at the farther end of the basin. The peak was built of many-colored rocks laid in belts, and the effect was grandly beautiful. On one side of the peak ran the trail that led out of the basin. In an hour the peak and the hollow at its base would be wrapped in darkness. “That peak seems to interest you, Cody,” said Wild Bill. “It does, Hickok, for there I feel that the wind-up will take place.” “Then you don’t intend that Holmes shall sneak out of the basin.” “You have said it.” “I get the idea. The retreat by the peak must be cut off.” “Yes. The basin can be circled. There’ll be some tough climbing to do, but——” “But a man of my build can easily do the trick. Good! That suits me down to the ground. Wish I could start now. By gum”—looking along the irregular wall of the basin—“I can start in daylight. The rocks offer all kinds of opportunities for concealment. What do you say, Cody? Hadn’t I better get a move on right now?” Buffalo Bill did not answer at once. His eyes were on the spot where Rixton Holmes and Myra Wilton were resting. He saw the villain arise, take the girl by the arm and point to the ponies. “They are going to move,” he said, in some excitement. Then to Wild Bill: “Yes, you may go. You’ll have to travel fast if you expect to get to the peak before they come up.” “Trust me,” was the quiet reply, and Wild Bill was off. Carl Henson was so excited that he would have rushed down the hill in spite of his promise to obey Buffalo Bill’s orders, if Bart Angell had not caught him by the arm and held him back. “Keep cool, sonny,” was the big backwoodsman’s admonition. “You’ll shore hev a chance ter take part in ther circus, but you got ter remember that Buffalo Bill aire ther ringmaster.” The king of scouts, still watching the scene in the basin, was both relieved and delighted to observe that Holmes was having trouble with his captive. Myra Wilton had refused to mount her pony. An angry discussion was evidently taking place. Meanwhile, Wild Bill, active as a cat and with the cunning and discretion that had so many times stood him in good stead, was making quick time toward the trail beyond the peak. Once Myra Wilton turned and looked toward the spot where Buffalo Bill and his two companions were concealed. Did she know they were there?