A shrill whistle followed, and Midnight trotted up to his master, and stood ready for his command. Remonstrance with the scout was useless; and after another warning to all, he sprang into the saddle and rode down to the river. A word of encouragement to Midnight, and the noble animal bounded into the clear waters, and was soon swimming bravely toward the other shore, followed by the eyes of all the emigrants, who were wafting Godspeed to the daring man periling his life to aid them. Before half the river was crossed the Indians discovered the scout, and with discordant yells the two parties, one up and the other down the stream, rushed to cut him off. The scout observed their intention, but kept bravely on, urging his horse to swim still faster. Leading one of these parties who were rushing toward the point where the scout was to land, was the traitor guide, Red Dick, who now seemed to feel assured that his revenge would be satiated, for he urged his large roan forward at a tremendous pace, quickly shooting ahead of the inferior horses ridden by the redskins. Soon the scout reached the other shore and dismounted, while the horse shook himself like a huge Newfoundland dog. Then the girths were tightened, and the holster pistols returned to their places; after which the scout mounted as coolly as though almost certain death did not stare him in the face. The deadly rifle was raised, and with a quick aim was fired in the direction of the band farthest off. A red brave threw up his arms and fell from his horse, to be trampled upon by those behind. Again the rifle rang out, and the large roan ridden by Red Dick was seen to stagger, stumble, and then go heavily down, hurling his giant rider with terrible force upon the ground. From the lips of Buffalo Bill there came then a war whoop of defiance, and away bounded Midnight, keeping an equal distance between the two lines rushing furiously upon him and hardly more than two hundred yards distant. “On, Midnight, for you have a brave duty to perform,” cried Buffalo Bill, as he turned in his saddle and glanced back toward the camp. Seeing the action, the pioneers gave him three hearty cheers, which the Indians answered with their discordant yells. “But, what is the daring rider going to do? Has his courage failed him? Is he mad?” Such were the hurried questions that burst from the lips of the astonished emigrants, as they saw Buffalo Bill suddenly come to a halt, and coolly gaze first upon one side and then upon the other. The Indians also saw him halt, and their superstitious minds were impressed with the idea that he was laughing at their efforts to take him, and intended to escape by some supernatural means unknown to them, for, often before had they known him to elude them when in their very grasp.