“How I got outside in time to prevent cremation I do not know. But I managed it somehow, and in the brush fainted again. I was opening my eyes when you came, Bart. Now you know all I have to tell. The enemy of Matt Holmes has won the first moves in the diabolical game he is playing. He has committed two murders, and he has carried off Myra Wilton.” “I shore hope he ar’n’t aimin’ to murder her,” said Angell, with a white face. “It is not likely,” was the confident response. “He has other designs. She is too pretty to kill.” As he spoke a frown came to his brow, and he bit his lip viciously. “Confound this wound of mine. I won’t be able to get about and do business for hours.” “But yer humble sarvint ain’t in ther same fix,” responded Angell quickly. “I am shore on deck, an’, what’s more, I’m pinin’ ter git on ther trail of ther pizen hounds that’s moseyed off with ther gal.” “Good!” said the king of scouts, his face clearing instantly. “Start as soon as you like. I am able to look out for myself.” Ten minutes later Bart Angell was on the flat with pick and shovel. The duty of burial performed, he set out up the ravine which had brought Buffalo Bill and Myra Wilton to the flat. He had been gone an hour when a tall man, with face covered by a black mask, stole up to the cabin that held the king of scouts. Through the small window on the side, he peered in and saw Buffalo Bill propped up on the bunk and calmly smoking a pipe. The door was open, and a few minutes later the man appeared in front of it. In his hand was a revolver, and the king of scouts looked up to gaze into the muzzle of the weapon. A moment of silence followed: Then Buffalo Bill spoke coolly: “Looks as if you had the drop.” CHAPTER II. THE TABLES ARE TURNED. The man with the mask emitted a soft chuckle. “Appearances in this case are not deceitful, William,” he suavely replied. “I have the drop, and you are exactly where I want you.” With the words he stepped into the room, but did not close the door. Placing a stool on one side of the opening, he coolly sat down, his revolver the while still pointed at the head of the king of scouts. Buffalo Bill went on smoking, and, though his face was pale, there was no sign of fear upon it. There was silence for a few moments, and then the scout said quietly: “If you are in no hurry to shoot, why not lower that gun of yours? It might go off accidentally and bring my partner here.” The masked villain smiled evilly. “Your partner won’t come here to-day. He has gone where you are soon to go.” Buffalo Bill could draw but one conclusion from the words. Bart Angell had been surprised and killed. And a knife, instead of a pistol, had been used.