He took her hands in his own, and gazed down upon her bowed head; but she remained silent, and, raising the beautiful face until he gazed down into it, he asked: “Have I come in vain, Mary?” “No.” The answer was very low, but he heard it, and drew her gently toward him, while he asked: “When am I to call you wholly my own, Mary?” “When you have found Mr. Cody, or run Kent King to earth,” she said, almost sternly. “Enough, I ask no more; but here comes your father, and I will ask him for your hand, now that you have given me your heart.” The young Texan turned and greeted Mary’s father as he came upon the piazza, evidently greatly excited. “Glad to meet you, Captain Dash; but, sir, the devilish old parson was no parson at all, but Kent King, the Gambler Guide, who has escaped and swept down the valley at the head of twoscore renegades, burning and pillaging as he went.” “He has already begun his mad work, then?” “He has, indeed, and the vigilantes are organizing to go in pursuit; and more, he would have paid us a visit had not a band of miners turned him back.” “I will leave at once on his trail. Mary, I leave to you to say what I would have said to your father; good-by.” Two minutes after, Captain Dash was riding like the wind toward the encampment of the Revolver Riders, some ten miles distant and in his heart were commingling the antipodes of emotions--hatred for the Gambler Guide, and love for Mary Hale. CHAPTER XVI. BETWEEN TWO FIRES. When Buffalo Bill fled from the horsemen, whom he now knew to be outlaws in the disguise of Indians, as they hailed him in perfect English, he felt that he was in almost as much danger as when he stood in Panther Kate’s grave, with his worst foe standing above him holding a pistol leveled at his heart. His arm was bleeding freely, and he bound his silk neck scarf around it below the shoulder as well as he could, fastening the knot with the aid of his teeth. Though Midnight was running well, he had seen hard service of late. There were half a dozen horses in pursuit, and, fast as he was, they were holding their own with him, and one was steadily gaining. To the hills, visible before the scout, it was half a dozen miles. If Midnight could keep up his rapid pace until they were reached, and Buffalo Bill did not faint from loss of blood, he felt he would have a chance to stand off his foes. If his horse should fail him now, in his hour of need, or if he should fall in weakness from his saddle, he knew his hour had come to die, for he was certain no mercy would be shown him. With his lasso he secured himself firmly in the saddle, and with his knife gave the scarf around his arm an extra turn to tighten it, sticking the blade into his sleeve to hold it in place. Then he again looked behind him.