For nearly an hour longer they continued to ride across the open plain. Hattie would not consent to turn in the direction of the river, so they took a course that paralleled the stream. They had a rough awakening from their fancied security. Shouts were suddenly heard behind. They looked around to see a large party of horsemen bearing down on them at full gallop. The girl suddenly showed a spirit that aroused the baron’s admiration. Now, when her fortunes were at the lowest ebb, all her fears seemed to drop from her. Her face became set and resolute, her eyes flashed, and she goaded her horse to the best speed. The baron’s mule, although a scrawny-looking brute, had both speed and bottom. Horse and mule, responding to the urging of their riders, flung onward neck and neck. “How many are there in that party, baron?” asked the girl. “More as I like to see,” said the baron. “I should say dere iss t’irty or fordy. Dere iss a greaser und a feller in plack clothes at der head oof der gang. Who vas dose din horns?” “The man in the Mexican clothes is Phelps,” replied the girl, “and the other man is--Benner!” The last word came with bitter emphasis. “If they capture us, baron, I wish you would shoot that man in black.” “Anyt’ing to oblige a laty,” returned the baron promptly, “aber I pedder do dot pefore ve ged gaptured, nicht wahr? Meppyso I don’d ged no chance afder dot, or----” The baron, at that moment, received the start of his life. He gulped on his words, and nearly dropped from his saddle. “Look vonce!” he gasped. “See who iss dot, Miss Berry!” The baron pointed across the level to a spot where one horseman after another was swinging over the crest of a coulee--appearing as if by magic out of the earth, and pointing straight for the baron and the girl. “Vone iss--meppy I vas treaming--vone iss Puffalo Pill,” mumbled the baron; “und anodder iss Vild Pill, und dere iss olt Nomat, und Leedle Cayuse, und some odder fellers vat I don’d know.” “The other two,” cried the girl joyfully, “are my father and Nate.” “From vere dit dose fellers come?” “I don’t know, baron, but--but it is a blessing for us. And there’s the sky pilot,” went on the girl, still feasting her eyes on the approaching horsemen. “Dot gifs us enough men to make a pooty fighdt, aber dose odder fellers haf seferal times as many as vat ve got.” The scout, and those from the coulee, were not long in coming to the side of the baron and the girl. There were many things the baron and the girl wanted to know from the scout and those with him, and many things Buffalo Bill and his companions were eager to hear from the Dutchman and Hattie, but the course of events offered no opportunity for talk. “They’re gaining on us, pard!” shouted Wild Bill. “I reckon nothin’ kin stave off a fight now,” yelled old Nomad. “No bloodshed, I beg of you!” implored the sky pilot. “Let me try my hand as peacemaker, friends! My profession earns me that right.”