“Nonsense,” was the harsh response. “I knew what I was about when I did the sticking. You are not hurt to speak of. I didn’t even scrape a rib, and your heart is as whole and”—with a stern look—“as black as ever it was. The blood-letting will do you good. It will take some of the aguardiente poison out of your system.” Black-face Ned breathed a sigh of relief. “I wish,” he said, “I had a good snifter of the real thing.” The king of scouts always carried a flask of whisky for emergencies. He produced it, and allowed the villain to swallow a generous dose. “Thank you,” said Black-face Ned gratefully. “You are not a bad sort, really.” “That so?” returned Buffalo Bill, with uplifted eyebrows. “Maybe you and I will be great friends before we get through with our little affair.” The wounded villain smiled sourly. Soon he asked: “How in the dickens did you get loose? I would have sworn that I had you tied for keeps.” “Tied with rotten leathers, that’s what I was. Pity you did not inspect the cords before you started to use them.” The villain swore softly. Then his eyes sought the floor. Presently he said: “Bend over me. I want to whisper something in your ear.” But the king of scouts, who at the moment had heard a noise outside the door, declined to comply with the request. “I am onto you, Ned,” he whispered. “You want to get me where Pigeon-toed Ike can surprise me. Not to-day. The program will be a surprise for Ike.” The speaker was about to walk to the door to be ready for the outlaw when he should enter, but was stopped by an important suggestion. He turned, and stooped over the form of his victim, bandanna in hand, for the purpose of gagging him. But he was prevented from accomplishing his purpose by the quick action of Black-face Ned. A hoarse cry, loud enough to be heard outside, issued from his lips as Buffalo Bill was in the act of placing the gag. The door instantly opened, and if the king of scouts had not thrown himself to one side, a bullet would have cut short his career. A second shot from Pigeon-toed Ike’s pistol went wild, and before he could fire again, a bullet from the revolver, taken from the person of the wounded outlaw, penetrated the brain of the assailant, and he fell dead just beyond the threshold of the door. After assuring himself that Black-face Ned was secure against escape, the king of scouts hurried from the room. There might be another outlaw—Bat Wason—to deal with, for it was probable that Wason had been placed as guard over Sybil Hayden and her father. In the hope that the pistol shots had not been heard in that part of the building where the two prisoners were confined, Buffalo Bill hastened to the hall, and then looked questioningly at one of the two doors that met his eyes.