Now it was that the fearless king of scouts did some responsible thinking. It was certainly strange that the front gate should be unlocked, and that both doors of the castle should be open. Had they been left open by design? He looked up at the window. There were two at the front, and each was small and heavily barred. The bars were close together, so that it would be impossible for an enemy to shoot any person on the ground. After some moments Buffalo Bill retreated to a position outside the gate. He was not yet ready to enter the castle. In the valley, which was not half a mile in length, the utmost silence reigned. The scout went to the edge of the grove of trees that screened the castle, and gazed down the valley. There was not a human being in sight. On the face of things, the Indians and the outlaws had departed. It was reasonable to suppose that Thunder Cloud and his band had gone to give battle to the Yelping Crew, and yet the scout was in doubt on the point. He returned to the castle, and once more stood just without the open doorway. While he was debating with himself as to his course of action, the sound of a moan fell upon his ears. The sound came from within the castle. The scout pricked up his ears, but he did not move. The moan was repeated, and Buffalo Bill thought he heard the voice of a woman speaking soothingly to some one in need of comfort. Instantly the conviction came to him that he was listening to the voice of Sybil Hayden, and that the moans had been uttered by her father. But with the conviction there came no sense of security. It was not probable that Black-face Ned had gone off leaving his prisoners without a guard. He was hesitating over his situation, when a voice that was unmistakably that of a man said roughly: “Shut up, or I’ll smash your head.” The king of scouts cast discretion to the winds when following the threat came the scream of a woman. He sprang to the doorway, and crossed the threshold to fall into the trap that had been laid for him. From behind the door two men leaped out, and heavy clubs descended upon the scout’s head. The blows dazed, but did not send him to the stone floor. There was not time to draw a pistol, but he made good use of his hands. He closed with the ruffians who had so brutally assaulted him, and so quick were his movements that one was on the floor with an aching head before he could realize that he had caught a Tartar. The other outlaw dropped his club when the thoroughly aroused and desperate king of scouts made the fight one at close quarters. He was a powerful fellow, and received the fist jabs that Buffalo Bill contributed without losing his ground. In return, he sent in one stem-winder that lifted Buffalo Bill off his feet.