“If you wish your friends to know of your death, upon my word I will not tell them what you are.” “Let me die in silence.” “Doc, can you not give him something to relieve his sufferings?” “He refused it--he will soon be beyond suffering.” Just then Texas Jack approached, and as he did so Buffalo Bill said: “Texas Jack, the poor fellow is dying, but will utter no word to commit himself or betray his comrades.” The blue eyes of the dying man rested upon the face of Texas Jack in an earnest way: “Jack Omohundro, I know you. We were boys together in far-away Virginia. And your hand has ended my career. So be it, for I might have met a worse death---- Ah! I see that you know me now, but do not betray me here, nor to the people at home, who believe me dead years ago. Give me your hand, Jack.” Into the bright eyes of the Texan, who had witnessed many a death scene, came tears that rolled down his bronzed cheeks, as he grasped the hand, while he said softly: “Yes, Ned, I know you, my boyhood friend. We never dreamed of this in those old days. I will not betray you.” The Texan’s form quivered with emotion, and a smile swept over the face of the dying man. Buffalo Bill’s fine face grew stern as death, but it was to force back the flood of feeling that rushed upon him, and Doc Stevens hastily drew his sleeve across his eyes. “Jack, I will atone all I can for my evil past, I will tell you that which will let me die easy in mind, for it will save many from sorrow and suffering, yes, and some lives, too--listen to me while I can talk.” The scouts walked away, but the dying man recalled Buffalo Bill, who had removed his broad sombrero, as Texas Jack’s fell from his bowed head. Bold, fearless, reckless fellows that they were, the scouts all saw that their chief was respecting a death scene, even though it was an outlaw that was dying. They beheld the attitude of their lieutenant, Texas Jack, saw that his hand clasped that of the dying man, and they bared their heads in compassion, for they knew that there was some link that bound the two together. Later came the last words of the dying man: “Jack, old friend, good-by.” All heard the words, saw the smile, and then beheld the ashen hue deepen on the face of the dying man, as the end came. Texas Jack folded the hands upon the breast, and wrapped the white shroudlike robe about the form. “He was my boyhood friend, pards, and as he asked me to keep his secret it will die with me,” said the Texan. And to his dying day Texas Jack never made known the identity of the outlaw. After the body of the dead outlaw had been decently buried down in the ranch graveyard, Texas Jack motioned to the chief of scouts, and the two walked apart together. “You heard his strange story?” “Yes, Jack.” “And who the leader of these secret foes is?” “Yes, he is known as El Diabolo, the Cowboy King, is feared by everybody, and is the chief of cowboys on the ranch of the girl hermit.”