The king of scouts found himself in an unpleasant dilemma. If he shouted a warning, the Apaches might pursue and kill Alkali Pete, and also spoil any plan of rescue the homely scout had prepared. It was evident that Alkali Pete believed that the king of scouts had met with disaster, and it was also evident that he knew the Apaches were at the castle, and that the outlaws were somewhere inside. Pete must therefore know what he was doing. But it was with grave apprehension that Buffalo Bill saw his old comrade descend from the wall and steal quickly to the side of the building. Would he look toward the window? Yes, his eyes were uplifted, and his ears caught these words, delivered in a thrilling whisper: “Be careful, Pete, the Indians are in front and the white fiends are in the cellar.” The lanky plainsman hesitated a moment, and then, indicating the rear with a jerk of his finger, stole around the building. Buffalo Bill experienced relief when his comrade passed from view. All might be well if the outlet from the cellar should not prove to be near the back door of the castle. He was at this door, expecting to open it and admit Alkali Pete, when a pistol shot rang out, and he knew that his one fear had been realized. The homely scout had passed the cellar outlet, had been seen by Bat Wason, and—the king of scouts ceased to speculate, for another shot was heard, followed by a scream of agony. Regardless of danger to himself, Buffalo Bill rushed out of doors as Thunder Cloud and his Apaches appeared at the side of the castle. Alkali Pete was not in sight, but there was the opening into the cellar, and through it the king of scouts rushed just in time to escape a fusillade of bullets from the guns of the Indians. Once inside, he closed and secured the door. A shot made him drop to his knees. It was dark in the cellar, and he feared that he might have jumped from the frying pan into the fire. Working himself sinuously around the underground apartment, he listened intently, so as to get the location of his enemy. To his surprise, all was still about him. He waited a few moments, and then deliberately lighted a match. The flame showed him an empty cellar. The trapdoor in the ceiling was closed, and he was positive that no one had escaped to the room above while he had been in the cellar. Where, then, was the person who had fired the shot that had whizzed by his head? He lighted another match, and, walking forward, began a close investigation of the ground. A low exclamation burst from his lips when, in a corner, he beheld an open hole. A third match showed it was the entrance of an underground tunnel, which probably terminated outside of the castle inclosure. By the tunnel the enemy had gone, and by the tunnel had gone, also, Alkali Pete and the prisoners. Without stopping to reflect, Buffalo Bill went into the hole. He did not strike any matches, but crept forward slowly and cautiously.