Then Kent King’s revolver covered Buffalo Bill’s heart, while he continued: “I want you to die with the pleasant thought that I am going West to marry Mary Hale----” “I doubt it.” “Well, as you will not live to see if I do, you must take my word for it. After I have got possession of her fortune, for she has one the judge knows nothing about, she, too, will die of the same disease that killed Kate Colvin--namely, poison!” “Devil! If you don’t kill me, and I ever have you in my power I will carry you to old Rain-in-the-face and have his warriors torture you to death.” Then, with a cry more like an enraged beast than a human being, and reckless of consequences, Buffalo Bill sprang from the grave toward his foe. The flash and report of Kent King’s revolver followed; but, taken so thoroughly by surprise, he missed his aim. A second shot, as he ran backward, struck Buffalo Bill in the arm and turned him half around. Maddened now, it did not check the scout. The third, fourth, and fifth chambers of the weapon missed fire. A yell of triumph broke from Buffalo Bill as he still pressed his enemy, who steadily retreated before him. But the yell was answered by a score of war whoops, and through the timber came dashing a number of painted savages. Buffalo Bill saw that it would be madness to press his attack on Kent King, unarmed as he was. Turning quickly, he sprang across the open grave, and, seizing his weapons, started in flight, at the same time calling for Midnight, whom he had left in a thicket near by. An answering neigh was heard, and the noble horse came at a run, the reins and stirrups flapping wildly. Kent King, who had not fled at sight of the redskins, called out: “There’s your game, men! A thousand dollars for his scalp.” With wild yells they started in pursuit; but the scout had already reached his horse, was in the saddle, and had unslung his rifle from the horn and brought it to his shoulder. A shot, and down went a pursuer. A volley was sent after him, but flew harmlessly by, and like the wind Midnight sped away, for he knew well that his master depended wholly on him for his life. “They are bandits of the trail, disguised as Indians, and Kent King is their chief!” CHAPTER XV. MARY HALE. In a comfortable log cabin, containing four rooms, and surrounded by every evidence of a well-to-do borderman’s home, sat Mary Hale. She was thinking of her noble friend, Buffalo Bill, who had saved her from marriage with the Gambler Guide. Her father had brought her sad news only a short while before to the effect that the expected train had arrived from Border City and along with it Ben Tabor, his Texas pards, and Old Negotiate, who had been initiated as a member of the band, but that no tidings had they had of Buffalo Bill for weeks.