The tremendous racket of Midnight’s iron-shod hoofs upon the piazza coming to his ears, a sudden thought seemed to seize him. He darted to the window, which was open, and looked out upon the piazza. There was his game, mounted still and boldly forcing his matchless horse upon the piazza. Kent King, sheltering himself behind the furniture and creeping toward the opposite door by which he managed to make his escape, also caught the eye of the desperado. “Ha! Now is my chance, Buffalo Bill. I never miss at close quarters!” hoarsely hissed the villain; and, with the side of the window for a rest, he ran his eye along the barrel of his revolver. Buffalo Bill was not six feet from him, and the curtain concealing his foe, he did not see him, and it looked as though death must certainly follow the shot. But before the finger drew on the trigger a form glided from the shelter of the curtain at the other window, and a revolver muzzle was pressed hard against the head of the desperado, whose startled ears were greeted with the words: “Drop that weapon, sir, or die!” The alacrity with which the villain chose the former alternative proved his appreciation of life. The weapon fell upon the piazza, and then came the words: “Drop down on your face, sir, and lie there!” Never in his life before had the villain lain down in such haste. “Put your hands behind you, sir.” The order was obeyed. “Who in thunder are yer?” he growled. “A girl.” “Blarst yer petticoats, what in thunder is yer playin’ this on me for?” “Mr. Cody is my friend, and you sought to kill him.” “Waal, this do beat all!” “Hold your hands closer together--there, now I can tie your wrists firmly together.” Then, with her silk scarf, taken from around her waist, Panther Kate bound the desperado’s hands behind his back. “Now you are safe.” “I doesn’t think so, gal, for I’ll be chawed up as soon as thet wild man comes in here.” “Yes, he may kill you,” was the unconsoling response. “Lordy!” “It is what you would have done for him had I not prevented you.” “You is mistook, gal. I were jest lookin’ out at ther circus.” Panther Kate laughed lightly, but it was a laugh the villain did not like. As the firing had now ceased, the girl went to the door, and her eyes fell upon Old Negotiate. Negotiate had boldly stood in the doorway, his revolver in his hand, ready to aid Buffalo Bill with a shot, should he need it; but his admiration of his friend and the great feat he was performing caused him to keep back unless he was actually needed. “Bill will slew ’em all, darned ef he don’t,” he muttered. “Waal, miss, yer did see ther circus, an’ hed a front seat. Wasn’t it han’some?” he said as, in obedience to the call of Panther Kate, he entered the parlor. “It was a most thrilling scene, sir; but is Mr. Cody wounded?” “Guess not, miss. Leastways he didn’t look thet way, tho’ yer kin never tell, as Bill kin carry a skin full o’ lead an’ not show it.”